Rules and Regulations
by Natatat10
Summary: A series of one shots about mess ups made by many witches and wizards throughout many generations - sharing their stories as your daily guide to dating in the wizard world.
1. Rule Number 1

**Hello, everyone! So, here is my FF called Rules and Regulations! It's about all our beloved Harry Potter characters and their foolish mistakes they made in their love lives. Sounds entertaining, eh?**

**Oh, and thanks to my best friend, Stacey, who helped me come up with this glorious idea!**

**Well, if you enjoy this story, keep reading! If not, well, I tried.**

**In this chapter, Hermione's smart. Ron … not so much.**

Never Disrupt Your Witch or Wizard When They're Studying for OWLs

It was late, and Ron was one of the few people awake. But he was much too happy to go to sleep now. He had something to show Hermione. Something that he was sure she'd be impressed by. He had something to show Hermione, and unlike most things he showed her, he was positive she'd be impressed, or so he hoped. He wanted to do something that would be the perfect ending to his night. Sauntering joyfully into the Gryffindor common room, Ron approached Hermione, whose eyes clung to the pages of her books. She hadn't sensed his presence, or maybe she had, but chose to ignore it. She spends every waking hour with those books, he thought. She's practically married to them! I think she'd appreciate a little break. Ron really didn't care if Hermione felt she needed to study or not, he was far too thrilled. Far too overwhelmed with cheerfulness that he could hardly stand it.

Carefully, Ron tiptoed over to where she was slaving over a piece of parchment. He inhaled a gulp of air, swallowed hard and spoke.

"Hermione?" he whispered in the lightest tone possible.

She remained transfixed by her work. Ron thought he'd better try again.

"Hermione?" he said increasing the volume of his voice a bit.

Ron could barely make out the low grumble she produced. He knew that he was irritating her, but there was no turning back now.

"Listen, Hermione, I have this trick that I learned and I–"

Her head snapped up and Ron's heart nearly stopped. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was an abundance of bushiness–bushier than usual, that is–and she looked like she hadn't slept in a month, or maybe even a year, or maybe even two years. Anyhow, it was petrifying. "What, Ronald? What trick are you harassing me with this time?"

"Look! I can turn your quill into a bird!" And with the flick of his wand, Hermione's writing utensil was turned into a white dove that fluttered around the room. It was quite the sight, if he did say so himself. But when he looked back at Hermione's face, which he'd expected to be taken over by amusement, he was baffled as to why her eyes blazed with a fiery passion.

"Ronald Weasley, was that honestly what you wanted to show me? Turning my quill into a bird. Unlike you, I care about my grades and, unlike you, I actually want to pass these OWLs and, unlike you, I want to have something remotely close to a future! So if you have a problem with me wanting to study then, by all means, feel free to go back up to your dorm and not bother to study and do all the petty tricks you want. Okay, Ron? Now, I'm going to get back to work!"

Ron felt as though he'd been struck by a body-binding curse. He was rooted to the spot and his muscles remained motionless. He knew Hermione was very … dedicated to her work, but he never for a minute thought that she could be so deadly. And dead was what he was going to be if he didn't get out of here and fast.

"I … I'm really sorry, Hermione. I'll just leave you alone then. I know you'll pass. Goodnight, I guess." He slowly turned around, and headed up the stairs, his head hanging low and his heart feeling like it was falling into a bottomless abyss of loneliness. He heard the crinkling of paper and the scratching of Hermione's spare quill from behind him.


	2. Rule Number 2

**I love L/J scenarios. Here's one to kick it off! It's not an original, but I hope it's to satisfaction!**

Never Taunt Your Witch or Wizard's Best Friend

It was routine to do this. Not that he was proud of it or got any personal gain from it, it was just routine. However, the reason behind it was that he was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor. The two had always been pitted against one another. End of story. But the second that Snape's black abysses of eyes lifted from his Advanced Potions book, James Potter was reminded of how much he loathed him.

"Expelliarmus!" James said before Snape could cast a single spell with his wand. It fell to the grass and before Snape could lunge to get it, he was hit with another spell and knocked off his feet.

Everyone's heads had turned to their direction, some looking nearly as amused as James was. He and Sirius moved closer to Snape, who was laying breathless on the grass. With all his might, he attempted to withdrawal himself from this humiliation, but he remained glued to the ground, forced to listen while James and Sirius spat out grueling remarks.

"You … wait!" Snape said, abhorrence burning in his eyes. Everything else was lost in a bundle of indistinguishable curses that were ineffective.

"Wash your mouth!" James said. "Scourgify!" he said, causing an eruption of bubbles to spill out of Snaps's mouth. James was having a ball, laughing at the struggling Slytherin laying helpless on the ground. That was until he heard her voice come from behind him.

"Leave him alone!" Lily sounded. Her voice was typically sweet sounding and heavenly. That was unless she was cursing at him or telling him to leave her alone. But now, it sounded rather heated, like merely the tone of her voice could kill someone.

"All right, Evans?" he asked.

"Spare it, Potter. What's he ever done to you?"

"Well …" he said, "it's really more the fact that he exists." He thought to himself. What had he ever done to him. Come to think of it, nothing directly to him. It really was the fact that he existed, because if he didn't, there'd be no one to soak up every ounce of Lily's attention.

The fearless redhead grit her teeth and eyed James up and down. "You think you're so funny, eh, Potter. But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag. Just leave him alone."

"I will," James said, but he decided to throw in a condition, "if you go out with me." And he meant it. The girl of his dreams in exchange for sparing the trouble of hexing old Snivellus? Sure!

Lily narrowed her jade eyes. "Listen here, Potter. I wouldn't go out with you even it were a choice between you and the giant squid.

Ouch, James thought to himself. Each word stung like the one before.

"Oi!" he heard Sirius call, but before he could turn around to see what had happened, his face was stinging. This meant war. Within a heartbeat, James had cast a jinx, causing Snape to dangle in midair.

"Let him down!" Lily shrieked.

James had granted her wish and released his cast on Snape, letting him fall to the cold ground below. James had cast a body binding spell and he lay still.

"Take it off," Lily said fiercely.

"Lucky Evans was here to help you, Snivellus," James said, taking off the curse.

And then it happened. Snape had uttered those words. Those words that left Lily speechless.

"Fine, I won't bother in the future," she said as calmly as she could. She collected herself in a classy manner and headed off.

"Apologize!" James bellowed at Snape.

Lily turned around and bursted like a cannon. "Don't you make him apologize! You're just as bad as he is!"

But no matter how much defending he tried to do, it was no use. And, for once in his life, he was in the same boat as Snivellus Snape. Except now, Snape was the one suspended above the ground with his trousers off.


	3. Rule Number 3

**Imagine if Severus Snape never called Lily Evans a Mudblood that fateful day. Just imagine …**

Never Call Your Witch or Wizard a Mudblood

It was impossible not to detect his presence. His hand running through his jet black, windblown hair in an attempt to make it appear even more windblown. His golden was Snitch fluttering around. It was just the typical Potter routine. He had his usual Marauder crew at his sides laughing and joking around. Severus just prayed they wouldn't notice him. But his greatest hopes were crushed when Sirius tapped James on the shoulder, motioning in the direction of the tree Severus was huddled under. James grabbed his snitch and it's wings retracted. Slowly, he turned in his direction. Severus lifted his petrified eyes from his Advanced Potions book and met his glaring hazel ones. They greeted him with the usual insults. But Severus wasn't going to take this anymore. Not today, at least.

He drew out his wand, but within the blink of an eye, it had escaped from his hand. Severus was as scared as can be. He felt as though he'd swallowed his heart. But before he could even breathe, he was pushed backwards with impeccable force and was left panting on the grass.

That ignorant Potter, always acting as though everyone else was beneath him.

"You … wait!" Severus said, gritting his teeth. With all his might, he cursed at the two, but with his wand laying feet away, it was worthless. He emitted more curses, but he choked on one. Actually, he choked on a stream of pink bubbles gushing from his still cursing mouth.

Wicked laughter resinated in his ears. It was the worst sound he'd ever heard. Until he heard that voice. That remarkable voice that belonged to one Lily Evans. Severus' heart stopped racing and returned to it's natural, steady pace.

He saw James' eyes go soft and his hand quickly cling to his hair like metal to a magnet.

"Leave him alone!" Lily growled, fire burning in her eyes, her face flushed to a color nearly as red as her hair.

James cleared his throat and lowered his tone of voice, "All right, Evans?"

"Spare it, Potter. What's he ever done to you?"

James considered this while scratching his chin.

"Nothing!" Severus tried to shout, but merely ingested bubbles.

But James had his answer, "Well … it's really more the fact that he exists."

Severus' eyes narrowed. To be honest, he felt the exact same way about James.

Lily had that look in her spectacular emerald eyes, a look Severus had known since they were young. "You think you're so funny, eh, Potter. But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag. Just leave him alone."

"I will if you go out with me," James said with a smile. Severus tried to gag. The Lily he knew would never, in a million years, go out with someone like Potter even if she had to choose between him and a giant.

"Listen here, Potter. I wouldn't go out with you even it were a choice between you and the giant squid." Close enough, Severus thought.

It was perfect timing, everyone was distracted. Severus reached his wand, speedily undid the jinx and pointed it at straight at James' sable haired head.

"Oi!" Sirius called at him. Panicking, Severus cast a jinx that sliced James' cheek.

Before James could react, Severus was hit with another curse and he was dangling above the ground, all the blood rushing to his head.

Lily yelled at James and the next thing he knew, Severus was curled into a ball on the grass.

"Petrificus Toatlus!" James shouted. All Severus' bones were still.

"Take it off!" Lily demanded.

And, of course, James did as she asked and within a heartbeat, he could move his muscles once again.

"Lucky Evans was here to help you, Snivellus," James said eyeing Severus, who was attempting to get back on his feet.

Severus was bubbling with anger. In fact, it went miles beyond anger, miles beyond loathing. It was every hateful feeling combined that filled his heart, and now, he'd boiled over and was ready to explode.

"I don't need help from a filthy little Mudblood like her!" There were gasps from everyone surrounding them. Even one from James. He swore his heart stopped. He bit his tongue on purpose. What had he done? Oh, how he wanted to die on the spot. That was better than seeing Lily's eyes. They were overwhelmed with shock and everything else that followed was lost in an echo of his own voice in his head. What have I done? he thought.

But before he could even digest the thought that what he'd done really happened, he was suspended once more. Severus now knew how Lily truly felt about James, because she felt the same way about him. He was lost in deep thought. So lost that he couldn't even notice his trousers were off.


	4. Rule Number 4

**The rule is self explanatory. Harry/Cho. Deal with it.**

Never Date a Witch or Wizard with a Broken Heart

Harry had never been more grateful for the Room of Requirement before. Without it, he wouldn't be standing here surrounded by the smartest, bravest and boldest sorcerers he'd ever encountered. It was time for a change. With the new reign of Umbridge over Hogwarts, it was time to take action. To rebel against Umbridge and her unreasonable regulations. To create an army. Dumbledore's Army.

They'd been going at it for a few weeks now and this was the last DA meeting before Christmas. So far, Harry had covered the proper way to disarm an opponent, how to render someone unconscious and today, how to conjure a Patronus. But when it came to this topic, Harry was sort of hesitant. He had been able to produce his since third year, but he could remember his training with Lupin clearly in his head and even he, the great Harry Potter, took multiple times to materialize a Patronus.

"Everyone," Harry said in a voice that commanded the attention of each person in the room. Almost instantaneously, all eyes were locked on him. "We all know what a Patronus is, right?"

There was a roll of mumbles and nods in Harry's direction.

"So what exactly is a Patronus then?" His green eyes scanned the witches and wizards in front of him before calling on one. And, of course, Hermione had her hand up in the air. Harry sighed and let out a chuckle. "Hermione?"

"It's a positive force that acts like a shield. It can repel Dementors, too. But in order to do so, you have to think of something that makes you happy, like a memory."

"Right," Harry said smiling. "So, in order to produce a Patronus, you've got to have a happy thought. Actually, it has to go beyond happy, beyond something that makes you laugh … it has to be something so intense and dominant that it can drive any negative force away." Studying the crowd in front of him, he saw some who were nervously tapping their feet and biting their lips, already pondering their happy memories even before Harry had told them to do so. "So, take a minute," Harry said, "and search for that memory." He gave everyone a moment. "Alright, now watch." Harry drew his wand, held it out in front of him, inhaled a deep breath of air. And, as if he had a time turner, he took himself back to third year in his head. Back to that room where he stood next to Lupin, uneasy about learning a new incantation he'd never even heard of before. But once Lupin had informed him on what to do, he thought of his memory. He had to try multiple times and he fainted on every attempt. Now, in fifth year, he knew it was due to the fact that his memory wasn't nearly strong enough. But on the last try, he'd done it. He remembered his mother and father sitting and talking. A simple thought, but it was one of the few that he had of them. He'd allowed that memory to spread throughout his entire soul, leaving no room for any other thoughts or feelings but happiness. It was so overwhelming, that even thinking about it forced him to let go of thinking about third year, only about his mother and father and utter those magical words, "Expecto Patronum!"

Following that, a ghostly stag fluttered into the air. It seemed enchanting, but still almost lifelike and the air around everyone seemed to radiate a delightful heat. People gawked as it walked around the Room of Requirement, illuminating a gleaming path wherever it went.

Harry withdrew the incantation and his Patronus vanished form the air. Everyone came back to reality, their eyes looking far less dazed and transfixed than they had been ten seconds before.

"Cool," uttered Ron, breathlessly.

"Can we try?" asked Fred, who stood next to Ron, just as equally fair skinned and red haired.

"Yeah," said Harry, running his fingers through his jet black hair. "So the words are–"

"Expecto Patronum, yeah, yeah, we get it," said Ron. "Can we please just try?" Harry resigned and let them try.

There was a wave of people chanting the spell and an array of twinkling, pearly mist that swirled and lingered in the air before disappearing.

"Harry!" complained Ron. "Nothing happened!"

"That's exhausting, Harry," said Hermione, looking rather flushed.

"That's just the beginning of it," Harry explained. "When I trained in my third year with Lupin, I fainted. He had to give me chocolate."

"Chocolate?" Ron said, wide eyed.

"It helps when battling dark forces, Ronald! You would've known that if you'd paid attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

Ron's temper had begun to rise, "Hey! That's one of the few classes I actually do pay attention in! You're constantly telling me that I don't pay attention and you have to point out everything I don't know!"

"Okay, you two! Not here!" Harry roared. "Just … relax and try again."

Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione soughed.

Several minutes passed, and, before Harry knew it, he had seen a few people actually produce their patronus, the first of which, surprisingly was Ron. Luna followed him, then Cho and then a few others. However, as Harry had predicted, there were a few who hadn't managed so well, one of whom was Hermione.

The last few minutes were approaching and Harry was prepared to wrap up today's meeting, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a loud shriek, one that belonged to Hermione. She had managed to create a silver otter that swam about the whole room. A smile spread across Harry's face, and he concluded today's DA meeting on a good note–that was until he was alone … with Cho.

She stood in silence, gazing at the picture of the late Cedric Diggory that was pinned to one of the walls. Though Harry had always thought poorly of Cedric (when he really just envied his former relationship with Cho) but now, he couldn't help this heavy hearted feeling that he held in his heart. He contemplated what to do in this situation. He could confront Cho, or leave her to herself. But with Harry being Harry, he felt the need to come to her aid and make sure she was okay.

He stepped up behind her, trying not to get too close, but close enough in order to comfort her.

She jumped at the sound of his foot hitting the ground. She gasped, "Oh, Harry … I … I was just … leaving."

But Harry stopped her before she could get too far.

"No you weren't," he said grabbing her wrist.

She erupted in tears. "I'm sorry!" she sobbed, freeing herself from Harry's grasp and crying into her hands.

"Sorry for what?" Harry said, taking her hands away from her now puffy eyes.

"For … I dunno, being like this? I just … I don't mean to be a wreck. I just … I never would've imagined that he would be … be …" The remains of her sentence were lost in muffled cries.

"Cho," Harry said, capturing her gaze, "he died doing what he loved. He was a great man and you know that."

"I … I know," she sniffled, "I just …" She looked up above her head and muttered, "Mistletoe."

Harry looked up. There, above their heads, was a small bit of mistletoe. It taunted him, but he wasn't going to make a move on her now. Not like this, that was.

But apparently, it teased her more than it had him. She poured her gaze into Harry's emerald eyes and at that, she kissed him, melting into his arms.

This wasn't perfect, kissing a hurt girl who's heart truly wasn't his. It was anything but perfect. In fact, there was one perfect word for it. Wet.


	5. Rule Number 5

**Yet another Ron and Hermione scenario. Yeah, I guess you could say they're my favourite.**

Never have a Breakdown in front of Your Witch or Wizard

Homework. That's what she was going to focus on. Some good, wholesome homework always made Hermione feel better. It always took control of her mind and, once she was completely concentrated on it, nothing could knock her off her game. She sat down on the common room floor, opened up her Defence Against the Dark Arts book and began writing her newly assigned essay. With her quill loaded up with ink, she began writing, the sound of quill scraping against fresh parchment calming her. To her, this was the definition of tranquility.

But then she heard the most disgusting, earsplitting, horrendous, vile, foul, sickening, loathsome sound in all existence. The all too high pitched, feminine giggle of Lavender Brown. And among those giggles, she could make out her squealing, "Won Won!" Even without looking over at them, Hermione could tell what they were doing as if they hadn't even noticed she were in the room.

She was now stuck with a choice; she could either sit there in secret disgust and act like nothing was wrong, or go up to the common room, thus showing Ron (who, by now, was too tangled up in Lavender to even notice if Hermione left) just how disgusted she was. But Hermione was strong and she needed Ron to know that she wasn't going to be rattled by this–or that she didn't even care in the least. So, she took a deep breath in, kept her gaze fixed on her essay and continued her work.

Minutes passed, each one filled with infuriating titters from Lavender. But finally, to Hermione's relief, Lavender gasped.

"Is that the time?" she said in her flouncy voice. "Won Won, I have to go." Though Hermione refused to look, she knew Lavender was wearing a pout.

Ron groaned, "Do you have to?" he complained loudly.

"Well, I wish I didn't, but I do."

Hermione heard a few more giggles. She desperately wanted to vomit. But, Lavender got up and walked–or skipped, rather–right past her.

Hermione knew well enough by now that Ron would be combing his fingers through his hair, saving it from it's messiness. She wanted to pay no attention to him whatsoever and was glad he hadn't even noticed her presence … until about five seconds later.

"Oh … er … Hermione … I … uh … didn't see you there."

Oh, cut me the bull, Ron Weasley! she thought. But she thought she'd play it cool and classy. "Oh, well I'm glad I didn't intrude."

"You … er …" Ron clamped his lips shut and just nodded. "So … whatcha working on?" Ron asked, eyeing Hermione's book.

"Oh," she said, taking her eyes off him, "Defence. I want to finish Snape's essay early." But she dared not to tell him the real reason she was doing homework; to keep her mind off them. But Ron knew well enough that this was Hermione's style, getting started on assignments ASAP. Not that sixth year Defence against the Dark Arts wasn any challenge for her, she was just … prioritised.

However, Ron was the exact opposite. "Already? I don't want to do it now. I have … better things to do."

Things like Lavender, Hermione wanted to say, but did otherwise. "I see," she simply said.

"Unless," Ron began, eyes widening, "you want to … you know … help me out."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"With Defence," Ron added.

Hermione looked up at him, her temper beginning to bubble. She stood up, and though he still towered over her, Ron immediately began to regret even bringing up the topic of homework.

"Oh, sure, Ron. Why not? Why don't I just go ahead and write your essay so you can do your 'better things.' You know, I'm consistently helping you with everything and you want me to just do whatever you want so you can go snog her some more? Well, you know what, Ron Weasley, I am done. You can write your own pathetic essay. Oh, and even if I did write it, I'd make sure you got the worst mark of your life!"

Ron's eyes were now looking remorseful. Hermione, however, was as red as ever.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione. I was just–"

"You were just what? You know, save it, Ron. Don't even act like you didn't know I was here. It's not like I was under an Invisibility Cloak or anything! So just go to your precious Lavender. I'm sure she misses snogging you. I just have one question. Does your mouth ever get tired? I mean it's either asking me to do stuff for you or it's attached to Lavender's."

"You know what, Hermione? You're psychotic!"

Hermione swallowed each world slowly and painfully. Her heart began to stop racing.

"I am psychotic? Alright, whatever you say, Ron." Now flushed and exasperated, she bent down to pick up her things, gathered them in her arms and hastily left the room, leaving Ron standing there alone, thinking that, though he'd seen her on the verge of insanity before, this was the closest she'd ever come to mental.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Hermione abruptly threw her books down on her bed. She looked around her to make sure she was alone in her dorm room and let out a blaring scream that she hoped Ron (and Lavender) could hear from wherever they were, before melting to the floor and erupting in tears. She then took a breath that made her heart feel a little less broken. Her hands, still shaking with fury, brushed over her cheeks, removing any remaining tears. As gracefully as possible, she brought herself to her feet and looked back at the homework that lay innocently on her bed. She picked up the piece of parchment that was half filled with her well written essay. She viciously tore it to shreds, letting the fragments fall to the floor. She took a new piece in her hand and dipped her quill back into the sable ink. It's time to think about what's important, she thought and bgan to write.


	6. Rule Number 6

**H/G. Brothers are a pain, good thing I don't have one!**

Never Let Your Brother Know You Like his Best Friend (Especially When Dating Another Witch or Wizard)

Dean Thomas was a great guy. He was kind, smart, athletic and, as far as Ginny was concerned, he was rather cute, too. The two of them sat side by side in the common room, merely making small talk after an exhaustingly long day of classes. Dean's hand lay upon hers. It was frail, but also a milky white, making his olive skin appear to be even darker. There was silence amongst them, for they were the only two people in the room. All that was to be heard was the perpetual ticking of the clock upon the maroon walls and the melodious snapping from the glowing fire. She looked content.

It had been countless minutes since either of them had spoken, but Dean chose to break the silence.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" he asked, inching closer towards his girlfriend.

Ginny looked up at his curious brown eyes and slipped her hand from underneath his. "Er … I dunno. Whatever." She shrugged. "It's up to you," she said, as usual. This was routine for the two, she left things up to him. Though she never did that with anyone else. She was the one that typically called the shots, not letting anyone–typically being Ron–tell her what to do. But that wasn't the case when she was with Dean. No, when she was in his company, she bit her tongue and kept to herself.

Dean looked away, rather puzzled and rattled. He scratched his head in uncertainty. Deeply, Ginny hoped that for once, just once, Dean didn't want to partake in this guessing game she imposed on him. But just then, while they remained in silence, and while Ginny was in deep thought, her brother walked in. She felt Dean become even more tense. Great, she thought. Ron's here. As if she wasn't ridiculed enough by him already. She at least wished Hermione had accompanied him. Ginny had always loved her as though she were her own sister. The two talked about everything, especially when she and Dean fought. Hermione tried to give her all the help she could, but there was only so much she was capable of saying, only so many reasons she could muster up inside that clever mind of hers as to why they belonged together … but to Ginny's disappointment it was just Ron's lean, lengthy figure standing in the middle of the common room.

"Just my luck," her brother grumbled. "Could you at least have the courtesy to sparing me the sight of you two … you know …" He's such a drama queen, Ginny groaned inside her head, adding a mental eye roll.

Already as on edge as she was today, Ginny retaliated. "Don't be jealous, Ron. You're free to leave if you want."

"Hey, I'm allowed in this common room just as much as you are. I'd just appreciate it if we laid down some ground rules to keep things … appropriate. I don't want people thinking that my sister's a–"

"A what?"

Ron bit his lip, rolled his eyes and plopped himself in an armchair.

Flickering between Ginny and Ron, Dean's eyes grew uncomfortable being caught in the crossfire of their glaring battle. "Gin, you wanna get out of here?" he asked, trying to diffuse the awkward tension.

Not even making the slightest amount of effort to turn her head to look at him, Ginny scowled back at at her brother, "Um, no, not really. I think Ron can leave," she said, tilting her head to one side, however, she knew Ron wasn't going anywhere.

A sigh escaped from Dean's mouth. "Alright, well I'm gonna leave I guess." He looked at her, probably searching for a kiss, but Ginny just gave a simple smile and let him get up and leave. She would have been utterly pleased to see Ron's pale white and freckled face cringe at the sight of them snogging, but it wasn't the right time.

The millisecond Dean had left, Ron bursted like a cannon. "Ugh! Nothing is more unsettling than watching your sister snog some boy right in front you."

"We weren't snogging, you git."

"Whatever."

Ginny took out her book and started reading, but she was interrupted by Ron.

"Gosh you two are absolutely ridiculous. But Harry's gonna come up and go over stuff for the Quidditch match tomorrow."

The slamming of her book echoed throughout the walls of the common room. Her hands fumbled and the book fell to the floor, baring all the pages between it's tattered cover.

"Whoa there, sis. You alright there?" Ron said with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "You just … er … startled me a bit." Her voice had traces of embarrassment, as did her face. It grew pinker by the second.

Ron looked confused. "Startled with what? That Harry's coming?"

Ginny's heart began to race. "No! I just … I …" but her words were lost in an abundance of thoughts, and Ron's deep voice bellowing, "OH MY GOSH. YOU LIKE HARRY!"

Ginny was taken aback. She felt lightheaded and wanted to smack Ron right in the face, as usual, but right now, she wanted to smack him harder than ever before. "I do not! What gave you that idea?"

"The way your eyes lit up, and that stupid smile! Gin, I've seen it before, you don't think I know my own sister?"

He has a point, Ginny thought. But no. No, Ginny wasn't letting him say that this idea was possibly a fact. "I have a boyfriend, thank you very much!"

"Your point? You two are so … awkward."

"Oh yeah, because you're such a relationship expert!"

"Hey, don't you get like that! I'm not an idiot!"

Ginny gave a disapproving look.

"Anyways, if you did like him, I wouldn't care," Ron said in a surrendering voice.

Ginny's head snapped up. "Really?" she asked in extreme disbelief.

"Ha! See! You do like him!" Ron bursted.

"Gosh, Ron! How much of a prat can you possibly be? I DO NOT LIKE HARRY POTTER!"

"Yes you do. Don't be in denial, Gin."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do not."

"Do too–dang it, Ronald Weasley!"

Ron's elaborate eyes practically exploded with excitement. "Ha! I'm right!"

"For once in your life," Ginny muttered as she picked up her book and bag.

She smacked him with it walking out of the common room, mentally kicking herself all the way up the stairs.


	7. Rule Number 7

**Ok, so I haven't written in a while, but you can thank the arrival of summer for getting this chapter up!**

**So pretty much, Hermione has a genius plan, which involves the notorious Viktor Krum! I know (EWW, right?) but it has to be done eventually. So here it is.**

**R & R please :)**

Never Date a Famous Quidditch Player Just to get the Attention of Your Desired Witch or Wizard

_Beds are too comfortable for anyone's good_, Hermione thought as Saturday morning drew closer towards Saturday afternoon. She just wanted to lay there in the abundance of her sweet smelling sheets, her cozy silk pajamas with her hair in a chaotic mess. _Nothing_, she thought, _could _ever _beat this._

Serene quietness filled the empty room. Hermione was in heaven. There were no snarls belonging to contemptuous teachers–as in Severus Snape–to be heard, no miserable news of heinous Death Eater attacks and, gratefully, no imprudent remarks from Ron. Yes, life was a sweet symphony of glory.

But, as always, her tranquil moment was interrupted by the irritating clicking of heals and squeals … they were the shrill giggles from Lavender Brown, which were the equivalent of nails skidding wickedly down the roughness of a chalkboard. Hermione instinctively buried her head beneath her covers, trying ever so desperately to escape the treacherous noises. But Lavender's voice was all too obnoxious to simply disregard.

"Oh my goodness," she tittered in a ditzy manner. "I'm _so_ tired. I was up late last night." Her voice became rather trifling.

"Doing what?" another girl asked, sounding all too curious. Hermione couldn't exactly decipher whom the voice came from, but she figured it was trivial. Anyone who was interested in Lavender's matters surely wasn't the most crucial person at the moment.

An overdramatized gasp could be heard escaping Lavender's mouth. "None of your business!" she shrieked vacuously. At that point, it was obvious what Lavender was insinuating. The thought forced Hermione's stomach to turn. "Anyways, he said that he was planning on taking me to Hogsmeade tomorrow. He's so sweet."

Heat boiled inside Hermione, threatening to burst out. Her heart's pace picked up rapidly. Her hands clenched her pillow as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. But she realized that letting Lavender get to her was a waste of her energy. She was Hermione Granger; calm, cool and collected. This matter was simply petty and had no significance to her whatsoever. She withdrew herself from the fortress of her covers and gazed about the room. As she begun to sit up, an owl swooped down in front of her, causing her to jump. It took a moment for her eyes to find the letter, which the bird had dropped at the foot of her bed. With instant curiosity, she snatched the envelope and pried open its seal.

_Dear Hermione, _

_It's been quite a while since we've talked. I was curious to know how your sixth year has been going? (Awfully_, Hermione automatically answered.) _How are your friends, Harry and … I'm always forgetting the name of the other one. But maybe you could remind me of it soon._

_ I'm coming to town this weekend and was wondering if you'd care to join me in Hogsmeade on Sunday. It would be a joy to catch up and to see your lovely face again._

_Let me know soon,_

_Viktor_

_Yes! _Hermione thought. Finally, someone she could stand to be around. Viktor Krum; he wasn't the typical person that Hermione was expected to be with. He could easily be mistaken for the all brawn and no brains type with his immaculate Quidditch physique and the fact that he was more handsome than almost any guy at Hogwarts. He'd played on the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team and represented the Durmstrang Institute at Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. At the time, he was in his seventh year and Hermione was merely a fourth year girl, which is what surprised everyone, especially Ron, when Viktor had accompanied her to the Yule Ball. In a way, it was shocking to her, too, but she'd explained to herself, as she did to Ron multiple times, that Viktor cared. And he still did care. Viktor hadn't considered her some meaningless fling; he'd actually remembered her. Viktor respected her, which is what made Hermione whip out a quill and immediately begin her reply.

_Viktor,_

_Yes, I know it's been rather long, far too long, if you ask me. So, yes! I'd love to meet up tomorrow! We can catch up and everything. There's so much I want to ask you. We could meet around noon at The Three Broomsticks, if that's all right with you._

_I'll see you tomorrow,_

_Hermione_

It was perfect, short and sweet. She bound the rolled up parchment with a string and held it out for the owl to grasp it within its talons. She gazed into the blue sky as her perfectly planned date was being delivered.

Promptly at 10 that Sunday morning, Hermione had begun getting ready. She was doing her hair and applying a heavy load of makeup. She had no alternative to looking absolutely flawless. Her hair was in wispy ringlets, not her usual frizzy do. This was probably the first time in a long time that she'd taken the effort to make her hair look perfect, but she considered it to be worth it.

The clock on her bedside table said it was already 11:30. She'd spent an hour and a half getting ready? That's how much time it took to write a paragraph of an essay or explain Divination to Ron, not how long it for her to get ready. Nevertheless, she _did _look smashing. Maybe it was worth it after all.

The day just spelled out perfection. Birds chirped elegant tunes and the sun hung high in the sky. Hermione was all too excited. She was finally going to be able to see one of her only friends outside of Hogwarts–outside of Ron and Harry even. It was a breath of fresh air.

Hogsmeade never seemed more exciting. She'd been there a thousand and one times, but today, it held something in store for her. And there it was sitting patiently at a table in The Three Broomsticks. The familiar musky smell of the pub overwhelmed her as she stepped inside. Her hart was beginning to race.

Viktor stood as he saw her enter. He was taller than she'd remembered, maybe even more broad in the shoulders. A smile spread across his rugged face. "Hermione!" he exclaimed through his thick Bulgarian accent. He'd finally learned to pronounce her name correctly, which delighted Hermione.

"Viktor, how nice to see you!" she greeted, as she approached the table, which he'd saved. He gave her a brief hug before she sat down.

"You look beautiful," he said.

_Obviously the curls are doing _something _for me_, Hermione thought. "Thank you," she said smiling.

"So how have you been?" he asked, enthusiastically.

"Well, my week just got better," Hermione answered honestly.

"Your school is still good?"

"Yes, it is."

"I'm sure you're passing every class without trouble."

Hermione laughed, sounding a little too trifling, "Well, I'm doing my best. But how about you? Are you still playing Quidditch?"

"Well, yes, but I've got my eyes on more important things right now. Bigger things," said Viktor, sounding rather intriguing to Hermione's ears.

"Sounds impressive. Would you mind sharing what it is?"

A grin extended across Viktor's strong cheeks. "Well you see, I was meaning to mention it long time ago, but I …" he trailed off. Hermione's attentive expression had grown blank, like she'd just seen a ghost, or worse; a lanky read head walking to the table where Lavender Brown was waiting anxiously for him. Viktor turned his head to see exactly what she was looking at. "Oh, is that your friend … I'm sorry, I don't–"

"It's Ron," Hermione said abruptly.

"Ron, that's it!" Viktor said. "How is he anyways?"

"Well," Hermione said, "he's very busy with his girlfriend."

Viktor had begun to catch on. "Ah, I see."

Hermione shook her head, as to eliminate the thought from her mind. "Anyhow, let's talk about you. You were saying?"

"Well, after finishing at Durmstrang …" Hermione had once again stopped listening, but instead, pretended like she was engaged. It was just like what Ron did in Potions class, which, although it _was _just Snape's Potions class, annoyed Hermione more than anything. If someone was willing to spend time enlightening you on something, you'd better listen. But even Hermione was allowed to be a bit hypocritical every now and then.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lavender giggling, trying ever so hard to get Ron's attention, but he was too busy staring at Viktor and Hermione. His turquoise eyes narrowed vilely at the sight of them together. She'd ignored Ron all of Saturday and that morning as well, partially because he was being a prat, and partially because Lavender was constantly attached to his hip. She just didn't want to deal with them today; it would completely destroy her enthusiasm.

But the clanking of glasses to the table interrupted Hermione's daze. She looked at three glasses of butterbeer. Hermione was just about to ask why there were three, but then she looked up at a woman approaching Viktor. She was gorgeous, and she looked like she didn't even try. Her hair was short, hanging just past her ears in choppy ebony pieces. She had eyes of a magnificent amber, like toffee or caramel. Her frame was petit. Viktor looked like he could've eaten two of her when he was standing next to her.

"Hello, darling," he greeted her, giving her a kiss. "This is Hermione," he said, directing her towards Hermione. "Hermione, this is Ana, my fiancé."

Hermione was surprised. Viktor, married–or engaged, rather, but nonetheless, _married? _No way. However, Hermione plastered on her sweet smile and shook Ana's hand.

"It is so nice to meet you," Ana said.

"Likewise," said Hermione.

"Viktor has told me so much about you. How smart and kind you are. So, considering we were in town, I just had to meet you."

"Well I'm absolutely glad you did come."

"Viktor, did you tell her how you proposed?"

"Well, I was getting to it," Viktor said. "So, we're back in Bulgaria and …" Hermione had toned him out again. Just behind his head was Ron, chuckling to himself in a sinister manner. Hermione wanted to smirk at him more than anything, but she was pretending to smile politely at Viktor's story.

"Isn't that fantastic?" Ana said, grabbing hold of Hermione's attention once again.

"Just wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, having no idea what exactly she was referring to. Ana held out her hand, which held a dazzling diamond ring. "That's spectacular!" she said amazed. Hermione wasn't one to be distracted by the glitz of an item, unlike some girls (Lavender) however, this ring was extravagant.

"Thank you," said Ana. "I'm just so … so happy."

An tense bit of silence filled the air, before Hermione broke it with a smile.

"Well," Viktor said, "would it be alright if you were to take us around Hogsmeade and show us what's here?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said.

She spent the rest of the day playing tour guide with them. It was sheer torture. She thought she was going to be able to have a decent conversation with Viktor, but he had his fiancé with him. It was odd thinking that Viktor had a fiancé even. He _had _told Hermione that he was crazy about her and that he even wanted to spend a whole summer with her, but then again, she was only in her fourth year at the time. Nothing ever happened, not even a kiss, though he had tried many times, but Hermione never allowed it. But honestly, it wasn't like he was going to sit around and wait for her forever, and it wasn't that she wanted him to. She just wanted talk to an old friend.

After saying goodbye to Viktor, Hermione left to return to her dorm. Her eyes, filled with disappointment, fell mindlessly to the emerald grass. Her beautiful day was ruined. She felt her feet sink deeper into the ground with every step. Why was this year turning out to be the worst? She ran her fingers through her curled hair. She wasn't used to it feeling like that. Her attempt at looking somewhat decent for Viktor was an utter waste of time and energy.

"Hey," she heard coming from behind her. She jumped, for she'd sort of gone into a trans where she and her thoughts could be secluded from everyone else. "Hermione." She turned around. And surly enough, there he stood; well past six feet tall and topped off with red hair.

Hermione scoffed, "As if my day couldn't get any worse," she mumbled, though Ron didn't seem to have heard. "I almost couldn't recognize you without Lavender fastened to your side."

A chuckle escaped his throat, "Well, she went back a while ago. I thought I'd stick around."

Hermione merely nodded. Her patience with Ron had grown thinner over the week more than it had throughout all their years at Hogwarts.

"So, how was your little date with Krum?"

Her feet dug deep into the ground as she stopped dead in her tracks. "It wasn't a date, Ronald," she snapped viciously. "And, if you must know, he's engaged."

"Oh," Ron said dully. "Oh, yeah, I was wondering who that girl was, she was pretty hot–I mean … she was alright."

Hermione rolled her chocolaty eyes.

"Oh well, I'm sure he's secretly still in love with you."

The fine hairs on Hermione's neck stood up. Chills dashed through her spine. _Oh gosh_, Hermione thought. _He thinks I was trying to make him jealous. No! No, this _cannot _be happening! I would _never _try and make him jealous … right? Wait … no … _was _I trying to make him jealous? No, stop, Hermione! Why on _Earth _would you try and make _him _jealous? He's … he's Ron for Merlin's sake._ "You're a git, Ronald Weasley," she spat.

"How so? Don't tell me I'm wrong. I mean how could he not be? You went all out when you were getting ready. I mean you looked really pretty and all, but–"

"What was that? Did I hear you say 'pretty' or am I delusional?"

"Maybe just a bit of both," Ron said, "but why would you even bother? It's not like you, Hermione, to try and impress someone with hair and makeup. It's not like you needed to."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I mean for Krum's sake that is."

Hermione nodded slowly, trying to understand exactly _what _Ron was saying.

"What I mean is that he liked you in fourth year without you even making an effort of giving a damn what you looked like."

"So what's the point of this attempted pep talk, Ron?"

"Well, I just saw you with him and What's Her Face and I felt terrible for you. I mean don't get me wrong, the look on your face when she walked in was priceless, but after the fact, I felt a little bad for you. Look, what I'm trying to say is don't let Viktor Krum undermine your confidence and make you think you need to be more than you are. You don't. I swear on my life."

"Would you swear on Lavender's, too?"

"Oh defiantly," Ron said.

Hermione laughed and walked back to the castle along side Ron. She'd forgotten how great of a guy he could be when he was riding solo. _So wait … _she asked herself, were _you trying to make him jealous? Did he figure it out? Oh he totally figured it out! But wait … maybe it worked …_


	8. Rule Number 8

**Lily and James are way too perfect, don't you agree? Just read until the end ;)**

Never Show off in a Quidditch Match Just to Impress Your Witch or Wizard

November's bleak air nipped at Lily's China doll face. Her cherry red lips had grown chapped. Her hands, clothed in mittens, moved to her scarf to tighten it around her slender neck. A brisk gust of air blew into her face as players on their broomsticks flew by as they raced for the golden snitch. All Lily's emerald eyes could see were flashes of red and yellow as they Seekers bolted past the stands.

She looked up at the scoreboard; Gryffindor had eighty points and Hufflepuff had ten. The game had been going on for a few hours now, and Lily just wished for it to be over. The cold was unbearable. However, she stood out there in her Gryffindor attire, cheering for her team. There _was_ one person on that team, however, that she wished she could boo.

"Hey, Evans!" an egotistic voice shouted through the icy wind. A few people in the stands turned to look at her, some with confusion in their eyes, others, being girls, with jealousy. Lily looked away, pretending she hadn't heard, but James Potter just called out to her again. Accepting the fact that he wouldn't stop until she paid attention to him, she gazed up, trying her hardest to appear uninterested. "Watch this!" he called. Quickly, he dashed off into the sky, doing some sort of twist using his broom. He came back down in front of the stands. "Pretty cool, eh?"

Lily rolled her eyes at him.

He glided through the air, maintaining his gaze upon her, until he crashed into one of the goalposts. He and his broom tumbled to the ground. Everyone stood up, peering down as James lay a the bottom of the pitch. Lily nervously bit her lip, until she noticed it and forced herself to stop.

But, just as Lily had expected, the infamous James Potter rose to his feet. A teacher came to his side, probably to escort him to the hospital wing. Some would say he's lucky to be alive, Lily would say it's unlucky for her that he's not dead. Ok, maybe that was a little harsh, but it surly got annoying being hit on all the time.

Laughter could be heard coming from her side. She turned to look at Remus and Sirius, James' fellow partners in crime.

Lily gave a curious look.

"He's in the midst of a game," Sirius said, still in hysterics, "and he's _still _got time to flirt with you."

"Oh, grow up," Lily said. "I'm just glad neither of you two play Quidditch."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Sirius, "I play."

Remus laughed, "No way! And even if he _were _to play, the only position he could handle is benchwarmer."

"Oh, cut the bull, Moony."

"You cut the bull, Padfoot!" Remus yelled.

Lily laughed and Sirius muttered something under his breath.

"Think he'll be alright though?" Remus asked. "I mean smashing into a goalpost like that's gotta do some damage."

_Let's just hope it did enough damage_, she thought. "Well, maybe now he's learned that I'm no good for him."

Sirius burst out laughing again, "I highly doubt that, Lils. You'll always be James' girl."

Lily whipped around to look at Sirius. "Listen, Black. I am _not_, under any circumstances, James Potter's 'girl,' and you will never _ever _refer to me as that again, understand?"

His laughter stopped, and a slight look of fear wandered into Sirius' eyes. He swallowed and nodded.

Lily begun to walk out of the stands.

"You leaving?" Remus asked.

Lily nodded.

"But the game's not even over!" Sirius exclaimed as though Lily was committing some kind of crime by not staying until the end.

She rolled her eyes and exited the stands.

* * *

James gazed up at the sky from the ground, which was frosted with snow. His vision was blurry. He thought he must've hit his head extremely hard. It took him about a minute before he realized his glasses had been knocked off his face. He searched the ground beside him before he felt them laying near his face. He put them on. Miraculously, they hadn't been broken.

Everything was in clear vision, the clouds, a few of his fellow players who were coming down to assist him and his beloved Evans up in the stands. How could he possibly miss her? She stood out from everyone else in the crowd. Her hair flowed like flames in the frigid air. It was so radiant; it minimized appearance of the stray snowflakes that fell from the dreary gray sky. His heart raced.

"Potter," he heard from behind him. It was McGonagall. "Potter, are you alright?"

"I … yeah, I think so." He sat up and got to his feet, though his head felt awful and he nearly collapsed again.

"We've got to get you to the hospital wing, alright?" she said.

"Okay," he said, keeping his gaze upon Lily intact until she was out of sight.

_Why does nothing_ _I ever do work? _he wondered. _I mean, there are a million girls out there who'd _die _for me to treat them like I treat her. What's not to like? For Merlin's sake. _"I'm James Potter," he said aloud by mistake.

"Er … yes," said McGonagall. "Yes, you are James Potter. How hard did you hit your head?"

* * *

Lily lay lazily in the common room upon the couch, a book in her hand. She was completely engaged in it. Her eyes neared the end of the page, and her finger crept to the corner to turn it…

"Evans!" Someone sat on the end of the couch, causing her to jump and drop her book.

Her eyes, full of rage, darted at whoever was rude enough to disrupt her. For a second, she thought she was stupid for not seeing this coming, but the sensation of irritation took over.

"Gosh, Potter!" she picked up her book; she'd lost her page. "Why are you such a prat?" She smacked him with the book in the arm.

James' eyes grew large as if he were about to cry. "Me, a prat? Evans, why would you say such a thing?"

"Careful Potter, or you might just be in need of another bandage," she said glancing at the small area on his forehead covered by a bandage.

A melodramatic gasp escaped his lips. "Why would you even _joke_ about that?"

"Who said I was joking?" she asked, flipping through the pages of her book to try and find the one she'd left off on.

"You know that's kind of hurtful, Evans, considering my forehead was gashed open."

"Maybe you should focus on your game next time."

He chuckled, "Why would I? We were just playing Hufflepuff."

"And it's that kind of headstrong, arrogant attitude that's getting you nowhere," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me."

"Seriously, it's nothing you'll ever figure out."

"What? I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet on it?"

"Sure! What's the bet?"

She smiled sinisterly. "When you figure it out, then I'll go out with you."

James' eyes widened like a child at Christmas time. He never saw that coming. "Deal!"


	9. Rule Number 9

**At first, this started off really lame … considering I was writing at 1:30 in the morning. But now, I sorta love it!**

**Credit to Stacey!**

**R&R!**

Never let a List Containing Details About your Best Friend's Love Life get into the Hands of Your Best Friend's Desired Witch or Wizard

Harry twiddled his wand absentmindedly in between his fingers. He desperately required a distraction from Snape's essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was supposed to occupy two rolls of parchment. Harry couldn't handle it. Sixth year had taken its toll on him, with Dumbledore's constant beckoning, the workload from all the teachers–especially Snape–and the slight amount of unnecessary drama between Ron and Hermione, due to Lavender Brown, that was. He needed a break, just a few moments to breathe.

His weary eyes drifted to the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room. He tried to find some serenity in the crackling of the fire, but the sound just made his head throb. His eyes shut as he rested his head on the couch. But just then, Hermione came and sat by him. Harry stirred before taking note that she was there. He sighed unenthusiastically, letting his head sag back. Hermione looked at him, a peculiar expression on her porcelain face. "You alright, Harry?" she asked as she noticed his droopy, bloodshot eyes and the unusual whitish color of his skin.

"Never been better," he replied nonchalantly.

Hermione disregarded his sarcasm. "Well, have you gotten to your homework then? Because I thought–"

"No, Hermione," Harry interjected, sounding rather irate. "I _haven't_ gotten around to doing _any_ of my homework. In fact I've been doing my very best to avoid it."

Hermione's hazelnut eyes widened with a small look of hurt hanging in them.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to snap, I just … I just need a distraction, and I know you don't exactly approve of being distracted when there's schoolwork to be done, but please, Hermione, could you just make me think of something else? Anything but homework or Snape or Dumbledore, please."

She clamped her bottom lip with her teeth. "Fine. I realized that I've been concerned enough with Ron's love life–please don't tell him I said that–but how about yours?"

"_Mine?_" Harry asked, sounding confused.

"Yes, _yours_."

"What? Do girls talk about this sort of thing at sleepovers or something?"

"Harry, do I _look _like the type of girl that gossips at sleepovers, let alone even _attends _sleepovers?"

He didn't say anything.

"Come on, the only person you've really been with your whole time at Hogwarts has been Cho Chang, and we both know how that turned out."

The crinkling of parchment could be heard as Hermione got some out from her bag.

"Cho Chang," she muttered as she scratched away at the parchment. A swift striking noise followed.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Making a list."

"But _why?_"

"Harry, you asked for a distraction, therefore I'm going to find you a girlfriend. Merlin knows that's the only thing that keeps a man distracted from what's really important." Harry could have sworn he saw her eyes dart to the place Lavender and Ron had endured their first kiss.

Harry chuckled. "Hermione, I appreciate it, but _why?_" That was probably the only question in her life that Hermione never answered. "Alright, now how about … Katie Bell. You two play Quidditch together, that's a common interest!"

Harry shook his head. "I would, I mean, she's really nice and all, but I just couldn't think of Katie that way."

More scribbles could be heard coming from Hermione's quill.

"Parvati Patil? You went to the Yule Ball with her, right?"

"Yeah, that didn't really turn out."

"Romilda Vane?" Hermione giggled, a momentary lapse in her ever-constant composure.

"No way! Not after the chocolate incident."

A few more names were thrown out as possibilities, but Harry just didn't concur with any of them. He was beginning to think this was a pointless distraction and that he'd rather be racking his brains for something to write his essay on.

"How about Luna? I'm sure she'd know how to Lovegood."

An eye roll circled Harry's jade eyes. He'd never thought about it before. Could he and Luna work? At first, he didn't see why not; she was extremely quick-witted and shrewd, even for a Ravenclaw. Sure, she was a little different than the others, but that's what made her Luna. She stood out in the crowd as someone unlike any other. But the reason he and Luna were friends was because they were meant to be friends. They had the friendly sort of relationship. Once again, he couldn't imagine anything more.

The quill grazed the parchment, dragging an inky line across Luna's name.

"Why don't I just marry you and be done with it?" he said jokingly.

"Haha, very funny," she said mordantly. "But honestly, Harry, you need to figure this out, otherwise I'm going to have no choice but offer you guys."

"That'd be easy. Malfoy's always available."

Hermione smiled and laughed at that.

"But that's about it, don't you think?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, maybe … wait, no it isn't!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Who could possibly be left? I think you've offered me the whole lot of fifth to seventh year girls!"

The white-feathered quill skated across the parchment. "Ginny," she said lucidly.

Immediately, Harry looked like a Bludger had hit him in the stomach. "What? Me–Ginny–we–us–date–_no!_ How could you even think that's humanly possible?"

Hermione widened her eyes. "Oh, come on. I never thought you could be _this _clueless, Harry. I see the way you stare at her. She seems to always make you happy."

"But … but … she's Ron's sister! And she's got a boyfriend!"

"Meh, she and Dean probably won't last any longer than Ron and Lavender. But seriously, take those two points out of the picture. What do you see?"

"I … I dunno!"

"I do. I see you and Ginny. Together. I see it making a lot of sense."

More scribbles marked the parchment, but this time, Hermione drew a circle instead of a vicious line.

"What? Why'd you do that?" Harry said, glancing at the parchment.

A smile spread across Hermione's face. "Just so when you two _do _end up together, I can prove that I was right."

* * *

Hermione chose to suppress her hunger as she pulled the last few words out of her head to complete her essay for Snape. She was so close she could feel it in the pit of her empty stomach. She'd written the last sentence, but just as her quill neared the surface of the parchment to place the final period, a knock was heard at the door. Hermione jumped, nearly sending her bottle of ink all over her bed sheets.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," a friendly voice said.

She looked to see a slender frame topped off with flowing auburn hair standing innocently in the doorway. "Oh, no worries, Gin. I was just finishing up an essay for Snape. Remind me to save you all my work from this year for you to study off of. Sixth year is almost turning out to be as bad as third year for me."

Ginny laughed. "Coming from you, I'll take your word for it. But I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat."

"Please!" Hermione exclaimed. "Just give me one second." She directed her quill back to her work to place the final dot, a conclusion to what she would call a well-constructed essay. "Let's go," she said as she made her way off the bed. But as she did so, she knocked over her bag, sending all its contents to the floor.

Naturally, Ginny went to gather the items, but as she knelt down, she noticed a piece with her name on it, accompanied by many that had been crossed out. What was it, and why was her name the only one that survived?

"Alright, I think I got everything," Hermione said as she placed the rest of the sheets back into her bag. Ginny quickly crumpled up the parchment and placed it in the pocket of her pleated skirt. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, still trying to grasp some understanding of what that document meant. She could've asked Hermione about it … but she'd rather not. She wanted to figure it out herself, what all those names were about and why hers was circled.

"So, Ginny," Hermione said, rather curiously, "how are you and Dean getting along?"


	10. Rule Number 10

**I am a very quirky person. With very quirky quirks. I enjoy being a quirker because I'm a quirky-quirk!**

**Song: "Half of my Heart" by John Mayer**

Never try and Outwit a your Extremely Quick-Witted (Desired) Ravenclaw Witch or Wizard

Trying his best to maneuver his way through the swarms of kids in the halls, Neville made his way through the fourth floor of Hogwarts after his final class of the day. His week had been uneventful and, in a way, he was starting to miss fifth year; the adventures of breaking Umbridge's rules, Dumbledore's Army, fighting in the Ministry … it all seemed like such a blur now, but when Neville thought about it, it was a blissful memory.

He glanced down at his feet, then noticed a pair of socked feet keeping up along side his trainers. His eyes drifted up to see who was there and why they weren't wearing any socks … then it became self-explanatory.

"Hello, Neville," an innocent, airy voice spoke in an amiable tone.

A smile took over his face. Her hair lay in a loose stream of lengthy blonde waves along her back. Her eyes naturally widened sweetly, like they always did. Her silver irises twinkled, acting as another piece of evidence that proved just how much happiness she constantly contained.

"Hey, Luna." Luna; just her name alone was like her. It was unique, but above all, it was angelic. "What are you gonna do tonight?"

"Maybe I'll go visit the house elves," she replied with simplicity in her voice. That was the thing about Luna; she may never think much of it, but there was always something she was up to.

"That's nice," Neville said.

"It is. A peculiar species, they are. They're so kind. They're willing to help others but never take any help for themselves—or they never want to, anyway. I just like it when they feel appreciated."

"Yeah," Neville replied. There wasn't really much he could say to that. "Er, Luna," he said, trying to find something else to discuss with her.

"Yes," she said, her gleaming eyes glancing up at his broad, towering frame.

"Where'd your shoes go?"

"Oh," she said, as if she hadn't even noticed it, "some of the kids in my house must have taken them. They find it amusing."

"Oh, well do you want me to help you find them?"

Luna didn't answer his question, but instead instructed him to follow her. "Here, come with me, Neville."

He followed Luna's petite frame up a spiral staircase. From behind, he could see just how long her hair was; it descend in pale yellow locks all the way down her back, stopping just at the brim of her slender hips … Neville's eyes quickly darted back up, making sure they focused straight ahead.

He cleared his throat, "Um, Luna, where exactly are we going?"

"The common room."

"_Your_ common room? I don't think I'm allowed in it."

"Oh, no. We're not going _in_ it."

She left Neville puzzled; everything she said usually had that effect on him.

"Here it is," Luna said.

They stood in front of a solid wooden door. There wasn't a knob or keyhole, just a bronze knocker in the form of an eagle sitting placid as it watched the students pass by.

It sensed their presence and rotated its head to look at them, then it spoke, it's voice deep and crisp. "Old, yet spry, not human am I—"

"Excuse me," Luna cut in. The eagle's head twisted in her direction. "I was wondering if you could please give us a different riddle, not to enter the common room, but to help me find something. Shoes, my shoes."

The bird repositioned it's head the bellowed a long conundrum.

"_A destination is nothing beyond a way of travel_

_A way of travel is nothing beyond a direction_

_The direction you seek is below the pearly clouds,_

_Yet above the ground on which treads your bare soles._

_There are two sides to every story, this one shall not forget_

_In every game, two players; a hider and a seeker_

_The common ground is what is hidden and what the seeker seeks_

_When these two are connected, that's where these two opposites shall meet_

_Naturalists, you Lovegoods have been called_

_And any naturalist feels at home in nature's realm_

_So ask yourself this, where do a naturalists feet pull her?_

_What is the destination her shoes will reach?_

_Remember that what is hidden is never beyond reach_

_For what's hidden, is not to be confused with what is lost."_

Neville scratched his head in confusion, whereas Luna smiled widely.

"Thank you," she said sweetly.

The bird bowed its metallic head and returned to its original position.

"What on Earth did it mean by that?"

"I have an idea," Luna said cheerfully, "I have an idea! Let's make it a contest. We'll see who can solve it first."

"Uh …" Neville said, "Ok."

"So, how about we split up? We have half an hour to solve it and whoever solves it first wins."

"Sounds fair," Neville said. He glanced down at his watch. "Alright, it's 3:30 now."

"Alright, I'll see you in the … well, wherever the riddle leads to," she said teasingly, as if she'd already solved it, which she probably had.

Why'd Luna what to do a contest? She was already clever enough that it was unnecessary to prove it to him. However, knowing Luna, there was something even craftier behind this ruse of hers.

There wasn't a point in even attempting to solve it, but what would Luna think of him if he didn't? Would he seem cowardly … or dull? He had to at least try. He sighed and set off.

"Hey," he said to the eagle, "mind giving me that riddle again?"

The bird didn't even move.

"Should've written it down," he muttered as he walked down the stairs. _All right_, he thought, _what did it say? "A destination is nothing beyond a way of travel." And there was something about clouds and being above the ground … Oh, and it said there were to players to every game. There was a hider and … and a seeker! Like a Seeker sort of seeker! If the destination is beyond a way of travel–that travel being a broomstick–and the destination is below clouds and above ground–that's like flying! They're at the Quidditch pitch!_

A burst of excitement ran rapidly through is veins as he bolted in the direction of the pitch, dodging many other students. He arrived at the pitch, breathless. He scoured the boy's dressing room, but couldn't find anything. The towers, where students spectated the blissful sport, contained no sign of Luna's shoes. Neville was baffled. He thought he'd made a valid connection, but he'd thought wrong. He'd never realized until now how useful it was to be clever.

* * *

Fresh air filled her lungs as she walked the Hogwarts grounds, a skip in her step. Today was a lovely day to solve a riddle. Her gaze was fixed on the moving clouds as she tried to piece together the puzzle she faced.

_There's a lot of emphasis on the number two, _she thought. _But what's the reason for it? It's below the clouds, yet above the ground. That could be anywhere. _Her eyes looked at her socked feet as they walked along the grass._ He said I was a naturalist. "Where do a naturalist's feet pull her? What is the destination her shoes will reach?" _Luna was lost in thought. _A naturalist …_ _"Any naturalist feels at home in nature's realm." What's the closest thing to nature around here? _Luna gasped. _The herbology greenhouse!_

Her feet went wild, tearing the ground from beneath her as she ran. The next thing she knew, she was in the first greenhouse, where first years took classes, picking up pots, looking under tables, digging through dirt, trying ever so hard to try and recover her beloved shoes. But she uncovered nothing. Then it hit her; the number _two!_ There were _two _greenhouses! She sped out of the first one and … ducked behind a tree.

* * *

Neville was stumped. He had not a single notion, nor hypothesis nor concept of where the riddle was trying to lead him to. He racked his brain for any pieces of the riddle that he could recall.

_A naturalist! _he thought. _It said Luna was a naturalist! And a naturalist feel's at home in nature's … realm, was it? Well, what has to do with nature around here?_

But before he could even answer his own thought, he'd taken off.

* * *

While trying to stay as concealed as possible, Luna watched as Neville searched the greenhouses.

He dug through soil, but couldn't find anything. There was, however, one last pot that he hadn't torn through: the flowers that hung from the roof. He looked up and saw Luna's bubblegum pink shoes dangling off one of the vines. _"Remember that what is hidden is never beyond reach!" _he thought.

He stepped upon the table and stretched his arms out, but although he had grown quite a bit in the past few years, he couldn't grab hold of the shoes.

Luna watched as he struggled. The half hour was almost up. She had no choice but to race in there and help him.

"Here," she shouted, stepping up onto the table with him. "Let me get on your back."

"Alright," Neville said.

Luna's filthy socks, stepped up onto his shoulders. Carefully, without losing her balance, she reached up tall and snatched her shoes by their laces, but her weight fell backwards. Neville's hands quickly grabbed around her waist, catching her as she toppled off his shoulders.

"You all right?" he asked once he'd set her down.

"I'm splendid," Luna said, her cheekbones rising as she grinned. That always happened when she solved a riddle. Her shoes were hanging by their laces, which were gripped in her small hands.

He gazed down at her, but catching himself before she thought he was weird. Then again, it was Luna, how could she think _he_ was weird? "So, I guess you won. What's your prize?" he asked.

"_I _won?" But you were the one who found them; I just helped you get them down. If anything, there should be a prize for you."

He smiled, "How about a consolation prize for both of us?" He was impressed at how smooth that line was. He craned his neck so his nose neared hers …

"How about," she said, almost making him back away, "a first place prize instead?" And at that, she kissed him, sweetly, carelessly and divinely; just the way Luna was. He felt her rise up onto her toes in her socks.

She broke away, her eyelashes batting slowly. He was dumbstruck, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that was good enough for me."

"I'm glad," Luna said.

Neville smiled a smile that he'd never smiled before. He took his filthy hand in hers. "Why don't you put your shoes on?"

"I think I'll change my socks first."


	11. Rule Number 11

**Alright, so here's another L/J! I personally love this one. I felt rather nerdy writing it, which is always a good thing.**

**Once again, a lot of credit to Stacey and Krista!**

Never Jinx Your Witch or Wizard's Quill

Sunday seemed like a perfect day. The sun was radiant, the sky clear of clouds and there was meant to be a Quidditch game that afternoon. It was the perfect day for James Potter to cook up some of his rollicking mischief. The question, however, was what _was _he going to do? That was, what he hadn't already done.

"Come on, Prongs, let's get out of here," his partner in crime, Sirius, whined. "There's nothing to do."

James looked around the common room, where they were sitting. It was rather dead in there. There was really no one in there–no one with pranking potential that was.

A tedious sigh escaped James' mouth. He hated days when it was difficult to perform his usual antics. "Yeah, maybe we should … wait! Quick, come here." He grabbed Sirius fiercely by his sleeve, forcing him to duck behind the couch.

Sirius, rather disconcerted, shouted at his best friend. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

James automatically shushed him. "Look," he mouthed, pointing in the direction of the opposite side of the common room.

The boys slowly eased their heads over the couch to see. Sitting alone in a chair was Lily. From her bag, she withdrew a roll of parchment. James forcefully pulled Sirius back down by his shirt collar.

"You gotta stop doing that, mate," Sirius said, rubbing his neck.

James withdrew his wand from his pocket and gave it a slight wave. "Wanna see something?"

Sirius raised one of his eyebrows, inquisitively.

A charm rolled off James tongue along with his daily dose of laughter as he fixed his wand at the red head's feathered quill.

* * *

_This is gonna be a piece of cake_, Lily thought as she smoothed out the roll of parchment on the table before her. McGonagall had assigned a lengthy essay on who had the most influence on Transfiguration. Lucky for her, she didn't have to do any writing, whatsoever. All she had to do was speak.

"Transfiguration has done many remarkable things for the wizarding world," she spoke, her enchanted quill running across the page simultaneously. "However, there is one individual that has taken it far beyond where any other has."

Over an hour passed, but it had only felt like mere moments to her. The quill was nearing the bottom edge of the parchment. She began to say the final sentence.

"The countless efforts of this marvelous wizard–"

"Hey, Lil!" she heard from behind her. She broke off midsentence and her quill was stopped, hovering idly over her extensive essay. "You coming to watch the Quidditch game?" It was Alice, one of her best friends. "I hear Ravenclaw's going to kick Slytherin's arse right off the pitch."

A smile made it's way onto Lily's rose-colored lips, her cheekbones rising up on her porcelain-like face. "Alright, just give me one second." She continued her half-written sentence, "brought us to where we are in the art of Transfiguration today." She watched as her quill tapped the paper to place the final period.

"Ready to go?" Alice asked.

Lily nodded, "Yeah!" She packed up her bag and headed out through the portrait hole.

_**Three Days Later**_

Tapping her nails on her desk was how Lily coped with anticipation. Now, in Transfiguration class, she couldn't stop. The wait to receive her essay back was insufferable. Each second seemed to feel like a minute, and each minute an hour. This was probably the best work she'd done all term, if not all year. Her wording was well articulated and her voice throughout the entire piece was eloquent. Jitters could be felt in the pit of her stomach as she went over her writing in her head.

The clicking of heals could be heard approaching her desk, but as it got closer, the noise got slower, until it came to a halt. Lily's hopeful green eyes rose up from her desk to meet McGonagall's face above hers. She'd expected it to be beaming with a proud smile upon it, but instead, there was a look of dismay frowning down upon her. McGonagall's hand slowly set the essay on her desk.

Bewildered, Lily's trembling hand brought the essay to her read the first word on the page and instantaneously, her face turned crimson and her hands shook even faster.

_James Potter has done many remarkable things for the wizarding world._ _He's extremely talented, especially when it comes to handling his hefty broomstick. His muscles ripples as he cuts through the air on the quidditch pitch. James' hair is absolutely gorgeous and his eyes make me want to melt …_

Lily gasped. _That insolent, imprudent, impertinent little prat! _

Like she was torturing herself, she kept on reading, her eyes, now filling with tears, reached the last sentence. _ James Potter is a sexy beast. _Her hand clenched the paper, crinkling it up. Her perfect paper was ruined with remnants of James Potter.

The bell chimed and students fled out. Lily, however, got to her feet sullenly and headed over to McGonagall to try and explain. "Professor," she begun, "I'd like to talk to you about my essay."

McGonagall looked up at her despondency still upon her face. "Miss Evans, I must say that I was rather unimpressed by your work. Your lack of respect for the assignment was inconceivable. I cannot believe that you, out of all, people would act in this manner. I'm sorry, Miss Evans, but I had to fail you on this assignment."

Lily wanted to tell her that her paper had been tampered with. The words were so out of her character that she was amazed McGonagall hadn't noticed it in the first place. But she had tears in her eyes and anger simmering in her veins. This needed to be taken out on James Potter and James Potter alone.

Without a word, she turned and swiftly made her way out of the classroom. Her eyes scanned the halls left and right for some sign of James Potter. She had to blink once or twice to clear the water from her eyes, but eventually she could see clearly. How could she possibly miss him; hair unnaturally windswept, glasses framing his deceiving eyes, a smug smile upon his face, and Sirius attached to his side. She stomped seething through the crowd of kids, her blood boiling.

"JAMES POTTER!"

* * *

He jumped at the screeching of his name, the tone of voice all too familiar. He knew it meant he was in trouble. Through the mass of passing students, he could see her face. Her rage could be seen through the color of her skin, her normally friendly eyes appeared murderous. For the first time ever, Lily had struck James with fear. _Oh, boy._

Sirius, holding back his trademark smirk, tapped James on the shoulder. "Prongs, I think you'd better run."


	12. Rule Number 12

**I like this chapter, it made me rather happy. It was about time for some fluff, even though this sort of fluff isn't typical.**

**I realized that Ginny was a character, but there was such a large opportunity for me to make her my own type of character. I think the way she's portrayed in here is really … fun.**

**I wish I had red hair.**

**That is all.**

**Song: "Electric Feel" by MGMT**

Never be Afraid to Challenge Your Witch or Wizard to a Broomstick Race

A sense of familiarity engulfed Harry as he stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. The stimulating scent of freshly cut grass and clean air gave him comfort, which he always found when he went down there. This was his home, the place where he found instant liberation. He could be free of being the Chosen One, from the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter in general … the things that bound him. There, his boundaries were broken. There, nothing determined how high he could fly.

Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt, preparing to take off into the air, but, as he did so, he heard a voice call from behind him.

"I'll race you."

His head whirled around to see who was behind him. She stared at him, just a girl like all others, yet Harry couldn't help but smile. She drifted toward him, one hand in the pocket of her worn, faded jeans, the other grasping what appeared to be a broomstick.

"Oh," he said, catching himself staring stupidly at her, "Hey, Ginny, I was just going to go for a r–"

"I didn't _ask _what you were doing," she said with a smirk playing at her defined lips. "I said I'd race you."

Harry, slightly taken aback, widened his eyes. "S-sure," he stuttered. "How about we go around the goalposts and back?"

Ginny pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "I don't like the goalposts, how about we go around the Astronomy Tower and back." Her words sounded more like an ambiguous statement rather than a question.

"Er …" he replied, his brain treading on speechlessness, "Okay."

An impish grin grew from across her face. "On the count of three, then."

"Alright," Harry chuckled, getting on his broom. "One–"

"Three!" Ginny shouted, taking off into the darkening sky.

He watched, with narrow eyes, as she launched into the air, quickly gaining speed. "Bloody red-head," he said kicking off the ground. He maneuvered his way through the glowing clouds until he caught up to her.

"Took you long enough!" Ginny yelled jokingly over the sound of the fierce wind. Her chestnut eyes darted at him with a teasing gleam that was ever so visible.

He shook his head, pushing himself farther ahead. He mentally scolded himself. _ Pay attention or she'll never let you live this one down. _ He hunched over his broom and passed Ginny. The Astronomy Tower was within his sight. He focused every molecule of energy he possessed on his broom. His pulse quickening as he neared it.

"Yes!" he cheered as he circled the Tower then redirected himself back towards the Quidditch Pitch. But, he could feel someone beside him. His eyes narrowed at Ginny and her smug smile that was plastered upon her face. Harry darted his jade eyes back to his target, as did Ginny.

The two were neck and neck, but Harry saw Ginny pass him by mere inches as they glided over the pitch, her radiant hair flowing like flames behind her. Quickly, Harry directed his broom downwards then swooped towards the ground.

The grass could barely be felt just beneath his feet. A wave of accomplishment washed over him as he rolled to the ground then quickly got back to his feet … only milliseconds after Ginny had. His heart rate immediately dropped and his farcical grin turned upside down.

She looked up at him, her arms crossed. "You _almost _gave me a run for my money." She laughed, looking back at him.

His fingers ran through his windswept hair, "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted sheepishly.

"I guess the great Harry Potter _isn't_ perfect after all."

He raised an eyebrow, "You _do _know you cheated, right?"

"Cheating? I hardly think we should go as far to call that cheating."

"You left early, Gin… If you needed a head start, all you had to do was ask."

"I didn't _need _a head start, nor did I cheat. It's called strategy, Harry."

"Alright, if that's what you want to call it."

"Yes," Ginny said, "that _is _what I want to call it."

Harry laughed. "Since when are you so …"

"So _what?_" she asked inquisitively, her eyes widening.

"Confident?"

An endearing giggle escaped her, "Confidence is key. That's why I won." She said, slowly walking closer to him.

"Well, if that's what it takes for you to, you know, 'win', then keep it up."

She didn't reply. The smile on her peach colored lips said more than enough.

He looked down at her searching her face to try and find emotion. When she didn't betray anything, he bent down, and watched as her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. He smiled as he reached for her, and, under the fading blue sky, he kissed her.

She broke away. A mixture of satisfaction, yet emptiness, ran through him. His eyes questioned hers.

"Harry," she said.

"Mmhmm."

"You know I'm never going to let you live this down, right?"

Of course, he laughed. _Typical Gin_, he thought as he nodded before taking her delicate face back into his hands.


	13. Rule Number 13

**Alrighty, so the original plan was for this to be utterly Hermione's fault, but as I wrote it, it ended up being both of theirs. Ron's just too … oblivious for stuff **_**not**_** to be his fault!**

**Oh, and I should mention that there are virtual cookies for anyone who reviews!**

Never go out on a Date with a certain (Egotistic) Witch or Wizard Just to Upset Your Desired Witch or Wizard

For about the twentieth time that night, Hermione had to shift her weight so that Cormac McLaggen's hand moved higher up her back and away from … well … _below_ her waist. She rocked back and forth in her high-heeled shoes as she listened to the sound of McLaggen's disgustingly vein voice.

"So, Mr. McLaggen, I see you've … er … taken time off Quidditch this year, is that so?" a rather tipsy Professor Slughorn questioned.

"Well," McLaggen said with his syrupy voice, "I really just had to reconsider my priorities for the year, Professor, and Quidditch didn't exactly make the cut. My studies are of higher importance."

Slughorn widened his eyes, due to surprise or in disbelief, Hermione couldn't tell. "Ah, well that's very bold of you, Mr. McLaggen. However, I must say that Gryffindor sacrificed a great player."

McLaggen nodded, "Thank you, sir." He then went on to talk about the numerous saves he'd accomplished as Keeper in his past few years.

_Dear Lord, save me_, Hermione pleaded.

* * *

Sapphire eyes gazed at the radiant, crackling fire that gave a faint, dim light to the dark Gryffindor common room, blinking only every few seconds so that they wouldn't close due to the effects of drowsiness.

Snow swirled like dancing crystals in the wintry wind, which lashed against the window every now and then. Instead of shivering, due to the frigid temperature, Ron sat motionless in front of the fire, letting the warmth run over his body and the amber glow reflect off his marble-like skin. His heartbeat echoed inside his head so loudly, it sounded like it had filled the entire room. He nibbled at his tongue, as though he were biting it to prevent himself from saying something he didn't mean, though there was no one there to hear it–no one of significance at the moment, that was.

Why was he alone? There was no Harry, no frequently annoying sister, and, of course, no Hermione to be found. They were all at Slughorn's party. Not even Lavender was around to keep him "company." He felt abandoned, as though everyone had renounced any and all relations with him. It wasn't that he wanted to go to Slughorn's stupid party, anyhow. He just didn't want to feel neglected or lonely. This cloud of misery that had been suspended overhead had accumulated into an atrocious storm, which he'd do anything to make go away. A face full of snow seemed more appealing to him than being alone.

* * *

Finally, Hermione had managed to get out of the situation between McLaggen and Slughorn. She was astounded at how long Slughorn took to get bored of McLaggen's overall attitude. Then again, the amount of alcohol Slughorn had consumed probably lengthened his tolerance. The two had somehow managed to drift over to the refreshment table, where McLaggen appeared to be love struck; not by Hermione's appearance, which she thought she'd put _way _too much effort into. Her hair was perfectly curled, with wispy spirals falling down the front of her well-powdered face. Her piggish date hadn't even noticed her rather adorable festively red dress.

She let out a sigh. _Oh well, at least the music's good_, she reassured herself mentally, wishing she could dance to the jubilant classical tunes.

"Ugh," groaned McLaggen gruelingly, "that Slughorn _never_ shuts up!" Hermione bit her lip and took a deep breath to keep her calm. Suddenly, McLaggen looked as though he'd eaten something foully sour. But no, it wasn't the food. "Gosh, this music _sucks_," he uttered through a mouthful of hors d'oeuvres.

She had to take her eyes off him as he chewed, for the sight was absolutely repulsive. Her deep, chocolaty eyes drifted to the ceiling. Then, her eyes spotted something _blooming _above their heads. A look of fear struck her face as she gasped. _Mistletoe! _She had to get out of there, or at least distract McLaggen, before he noticed. The thought of kissing him caused her to gag.

She looked around for some sort of diversion before he could take advantage of the opportunity to make yet another move on her. Then she found it; Luna stood idly, Harry, for some reason, wasn't with her. Her tinsel-like dress reflected light as she swayed back and forth on the spot.

"Luna!" Hermione called, possibly a little too loudly. A sense of panic was bubbling inside her.

Her silver eyes popped up to see Hermione's. She made her way over to her and McLaggen, a large smile upon her face.

"Hello, Hermione," she said in her light, feathery voice. "Hello, Cormac. Enjoying the evening?"

McLaggen replied with an inaudible grunt.

"Are you enjoying the sandwiches?"

Apparently, he was, considering he'd stuffed three more into his mouth. _He probably eats more in one sitting than Ron does in a day_, she thought, a combination amazement mixed with disgust running through her.

Luna turned to Hermione, an inquisitive look upon her face. "Did you two know there's mistletoe above your heads?"

Rage sparked inside Hermione. _Luna!_ she wanted to scream. She had to escape. Swiftly, before McLaggen could even swallow, she pushed past everyone in her way and, finally, made her way out the door, springing as fast as she could out of Slughorn's office and down the corridor.

_I cannot believe that I would choose _him_. Gosh, how could I have been so stupid? Ron may be bad, but he was just … _Hermione let out an incandescent screech that resonated through the stone walls of the dingy hallway. She was trembling, not because of shivers as a result of the gelid weather, but due to her vexation. As a matter of fact, Hermione didn't feel chilly whatsoever, but boiling with indignation. The burning pique that inhabited her typically tender, solicitous eyes now made her appear homicidal. Her heals clicked as she walked at a violently quick pace.

_Why? _she screamed so loudly inside her head, it seemed to reverberate throughout her skull, _Why couldn't Ron just … just notice me? For once in his life, why couldn't he just do the smart thing? It could have been him tonight; it could have been him a long, long time ago, but no, he just had to be ignorant, and that ignorant git left me stuck with McLaggen! _She stopped in her tracks as she reached the Portrait hole, feeling slightly unsteady. "Why am I so stubborn?" she muttered aloud.

The Fat Lady, who had been snoring, as she had dozed off, stirred, and then looked at Hermione with weary eyes. "Did–" she yawned, "Did you say something, dear?"

"B-baubles," Hermione stuttered in a muffled tone as she said the password. The Fat Lady swung open the entrance to the common room, then, quickly, fell back to sleep.

Tears stung like acid in Hermione's eyes as she stepped through the portrait hole, she was afraid to blink, for fear that they'd stream down her face. But through the wall of water, she could faintly make out a mass of ruby red hair. She blinked, and felt the droplets scurry down her cheeks.

* * *

A creaking noise could be heard from behind him, which he knew well enough, was the portrait hole opening. Startled, his head snapped in the direction of the entrance, putting in his direct line of vision, Hermione.

A scarlet dress took to her every curve. He looked up at her, mindlessly, of course, to see her hair sort of … messy. Whether it was meant to be that way or not, Ron would never know, but either way, it still looked … well, he could only describe it in one way: pretty. Then it hit him; this look wasn't for _him,_ it was for McLaggen. The thought of that overbearing, egomaniacal arse made him instinctively clench his milky white hand into a fist.

It took a moment or two for Hermione to realize that he was there, but when she had–and Ron knew that she had due to the sound of the deep breaths she always took when she was frustrated –the two waited in silence, anticipating the other to say something.

Fury built up inside Ron and he put on his nasty expression that he'd been wearing for the past month or so. "Back so soon, are we?"

Hermione didn't reply. All he could hear was a scoff.

"Thought you would've been there all night enjoying your time with Mr. McLaggen."

She bit her lip and swallowed. It took him a while to see in the feeble light that she had streaks down her face. She was crying. _Brilliant, Ron, you've done it again_, he thought, sighing.

"Hermione, I–"

"Please," she begged, her voice weary, "just don't, alright, Ron. I don't want to–" Her voice broke off as she choked up.

In an instant, his face faded from an unpleasant appearance to a concerned one. "I'm–" Ron began, about to apologize, not just for this, but for everything; the whole fight, all the bickering. But Hermione cut him off.

"You're blinded," she said faintly. "You're absolutely blinded. We've known each other for five years and you're just _so_ oblivious."

Ron was utterly confused. What was she on about, him being oblivious? "What do you–?"

"I had to endure Cormac McLaggen at what I'm sure wasn't him in his lowest form, though it sure seemed like it," she said, seeming like she'd changed the subject, but Ron knew she was trying to make a point. She sighed heavily, "Damn it, Ronald, even _you _would've been more suitable than he was."

A look of shock overcame his ivory face. "_Me?_"

"Yes, _you! _Except you've got Lavender."

"Hold on a second. _Me?_"

"Ugh! You don't understand _anything. _You've had five years, Ronald, _five!_ And all you've done is run off with some ditzy girl and suck her face!"

"You say _I'm _blind? Well, if _I'm_ blind then _you're_ just stubborn! Don't sit there and complain about what you could've changed."

He could see her knees buckling through her dress. She sniffled and turned to go up the stairs. "Merry Christmas, Ron!" she yelled sarcastically as she headed towards the stairs that led her to her dormitory. "Oh, and, by the way, the only reason you're Keeper is because I used the Confundus charm on McLaggen!" Her heels could be heard stomping up the stairs.

The feeling of letting a Quaffle pass through the goal overwhelmed him. It was the feeling of failure and dismay. He _was _oblivious.


	14. Rule Number 14

**Alright, here's a Fred/Angelina chapter with the mischievous workings of the loveable George Weasley. It was about time for me to write one of these. It takes place the year after they've dropped out of Hogwarts.**

**It's kinda fun and lighthearted with a touch of the typical Weasley hysterics.**

**Enjoy!**

**Song: "Just Say Yes" by Snow Patrol**

Never Mess with Your Twin when they're Trying to be Romantic with their Witch or Wizard

Deep, chestnut brown eyes glanced at the indigo sky through the glass of the door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that shielded him from the wrath of winter's nippy air. His hand's pale fingers turned the sign hanging on the door so that it faced out saying _closed_. He continued to gaze mindlessly out into the darkening sky, his eyes trying to see through the array of snowflakes.

"She's not here yet?"

Fred turned around to see his twin in front of him; standing with the same tall and lean figure, with equally ginger hair, identical ashen skin with the same freckles sprinkled across his face. There was no telling the difference except that George's eyes were a lighter brown than Fred's; more of a caramel than chocolate. That was the only way their mother could distinguish them. Either way, the boys used their twin-like qualities to get up to their usual schemes.

Fred gently shook his head in response, slight disappointment etched across his face.

"She'll show, mate. Trust me," George said in a brotherly tone. "I mean, if she had any sense, she wouldn't, but you know Angelina; always gotta be a daredevil doing things she shouldn't!"

"Shove off, you tosser." Fred said, faking a smile. His hand then drifted to his head and scratched, "But about that, do you think you could, I dunno, pretend you've got yourself Harry's Invisibility Cloak or something? Just for tonight. I'm not asking you to leave or anything, I mean, there's a blizzard, but I just would like to … I dunno, just–"

George cut him off, "Don't worry, mate, I get it." He held up his hands to keep Fred from continuing any farther.

A miniscule smile ran over Fred's lips, then he turned back to face the window. His pulse was slowing, each beat distinct from the next. It had been a while since they'd actually seen one another. They were both starting new, real lives and they had both become busy, making plans was more challenging now than in school days. But now, it was the Christmas holidays, and the boys had just a few days at the shop before they closed up and headed to the Burrow for Christmas Eve.

His giant eyes drooped. Angelina was meant to be there an hour ago. He was so lost in thought; he couldn't even hear the faint sound of George's footsteps, leaving him alone in the foyer.

* * *

George decided it'd be best to leave his brother be, so, to the best of his ability, he tiptoed his way to the back room of the shop.

Fred's eyes alone could break someone's heart; they usually harbored happiness, with a constant gleam in them due to the never-ending comedic aspects of life. However, now they appeared sunken and lonely, growing darker with every failed plan and rescheduling for a different date with his sweetheart.

He could tell that his brother had been stressed out over the past little while. It was as though they communicated telepathically. George could always decipher his expressions and know how he was doing. But lately, Fred wasn't doing so well, and George thought he needed to be … relieved. Tonight, he was going to have some fun and, with some luck, so would his brother.

* * *

Through the rapidly twisting crystals of snow, Fred squinted to see if Angelina was anywhere in sight. He took a deep breath and drew his wand, directing it at the doorknob to lock it. But just as he went to mutter the incantation, he saw a flicker of light in the distance. Without hesitation he grabbed his coat, mitts and scarf. In an instant, he was racing across the narrow street of Diagon Alley.

Shards of ice struck his cheeks like miniature arrows as he ran. She stood under a streetlight, shivering as she squinted through the whiteout. Fred reached her, grinning madly. He took the warm, scarlet and gold wool Gryffindor scarf that had been snaked around his neck and wrapping it around her bare one.

Even with the storm, the feeble light radiated onto her bronzed skin. Fred craned his neck and kissed her freezing cold lips. Though the temperature outside was blistering through his attire, the burn of the reunion was blazing warmth through him.

Their hands, both bundled in mittens, clasped one another as they ducked their heads and made their way back towards the shop.

"I'm sorry!" Angelina said as they reached the comfort and warmth of inside the shop. In the light of the shop, Fred could take in the familiarity of her; the silkiness of her ebony hair, how her skin glowed along with her sweet brown eyes. "The Floo network was so busy, I couldn't get through."

"It's alright," he said, slipping off his coat and mitts. "But you did have me thinking that you might not come."

"I wouldn't miss tonight," Angelina said with a disapproving look.

Fred shrugged, "It's alright. It wouldn't be hard for me to find a rebound if you hadn't."

A hand flew at his arm.

"Oi!" he shouted. "I'm breakable, you know!"

Angelina smirked and Fred laughed, her snarky attitude was one thing that she hadn't lost after school, one thing that she wouldn't ever lose. He took her hand, interlacing their still frozen fingers. Without having to say another word, she followed him as he led her deeper into the shop. Fred saw her eyes widen as they took in the scene that was in front of her; in one of the smaller, enclosed spaces of the shop was a small garden of flowers surrounding a blanket with a picnic basket on top of it. Angelina looked ecstatic as their two eyes poured into each other's. It was the kind of look that used to disgust him when he saw his parents looking at each other that way, but now, all he could do was give her a grin that matched her delighted, beaming face.

"We're having a picnic?" Angelina said curiously.

Fred's hand drifted to his head, scratching it as he looked down sheepishly. "Yeah, suppose so. Muggles usually have them outside, right? But I figured that, hell, it's bloody freezing outside, and I'm a wizard, dammit, I can bring it in here!"

Her smile grew even larger, if that was possible, revealing her dimples that Fred secretly adored. She went to sit down, and Fred did the same. He took a moment to take in what he'd put together. It was perfect. He listened to the sounds of the toys, all his and George's brilliant inventions; it sounded like music to his ears. There wouldn't have been a better place to be right then. He secretly commended himself for not using candles to light the room because _that _would've been cheesy and Fred was _never _cheesy.

"Alright, so what've you got in that basket of yours? Can't be any _real _food."

Fred gave her a faux snarl, "Why do you have to be so condescending? But you're wrong." His hand reached into the basket and withdrew a plate. "Cookies _are _real food! They're edible aren't they?"

"Fine," Angelina said, reaching for one, "but they probably taste terrible considering you can't bake to save your ass."

He sighed heavily, "Again with the patronizing. Look, _I_ didn't make them, Mum did.

A look of relief washed over Angelina. "Thank goodness. I _love _your mother's cooking, I could live off of it." She took a sizable bite out of the cookie, looking delighted as she savored it. Then Fred noticed her face scrunch up.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"It–" she coughed, "it just tasted like … like all the bad Every Flavored Beans."

"What the–?" Fred had eaten the same batch of cookies the same day and they tasted like heaven. "Here," he said offering her a goblet.

"What is it?" she asked, now trying to be cautious of everything she ate or drank.

"Relax, its just firewhiskey."

A fearful look pried Angelina's eyes wide open. "Oh no, I'm not touching that. Remember what happened sixth year on New Year's?"

Fred laughed and rolled his eyes at his girlfriend. "I'm just kidding, it's butterbeer."

Angelina's eyes narrowed skeptically, "You drink first."

"Fine," Fred said. He took a swig from the goblet and swallowed. He sighed from the sweet sensation of his favorite treat, feeling the bubbles accumulate on his tongue. He licked the cream from his svelte lips. "Mmm," he hummed. "See, nothing to–" Then, his eyes went blank. His whole body felt light, as if he was whisked away on a broomstick. The only thing he could hear was the heavy thumping of his heart, its speed increasing as it blared inside his head. However, it wasn't a painful noise, it was beautiful, symphonic even. He felt his cheekbones rising on his face as he smiled the biggest smile he could manage. He leaned across the blanket, pushing everything out of the way, grabbing hold of her around her neck, and bringing her lips to his.

It took him a few moments to let her go. When he did, she had a look on her face that was a cross between happiness, surprise and confusion.

"Angie," he said, wrapping his arms around her torso, "have I ever told you I love you?" His voice was sweet. It had lost all of its Fred-like qualities, the sarcastic, humorous, contemptuous texture to it. He sounded like, heaven forbid, one of those characters out of a romance novel!

"Fred," she said concerned, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding rather insulted. "Why? Do I not _seem _alright?"

"No, it's just–" her eyes darted to the goblet. "Oh, gosh, that wasn't butterbeer."

"Hm?"

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

He shook his head like a child trying to hide something. "The only thing I'm drunk off of is _you_." He hugged her even tighter and she struggled for air. She laughed. Fred was quite the character when he was sober; when he _wasn't_ … well … that was a whole other story. "Angie," he sang, "you're perfect, you know? I wouldn't change a thing about you."  
"Oh really?" she asked, somehow managing to break free of his tight grip.

"Nope. But it's not like you'd need to be changed anyway. Look." He took out his wand and pointed it at her head. She looked at him uneasily.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm showing you that I wouldn't want you any other way." He flourished his wand, muttering something. Mere seconds later, Fred chuckled.

"What?"

Fred simply laughed some more.

"Fred Weasley, _what _did you do to me?" Her head whipped to the funhouse mirror hanging on the wall. She gazed at her reflection, seeing a head of vibrant purple hair on her.

She gasped, "Damn it, Fred, you take this off _right now! _I look like one of your bloody Pygmy Puffs!"

Once Fred contained his excessive chortling, he pointed his wand at her once more. "Alright, love, here."

When he'd finished, Angelina checked herself over in the mirror again. She let out a fierce scream.

"I'm going to kill you, Fred Weasley!"

Fred erupted into a hysterical fit of laughter as he stared up at his girlfriend, now sporting bleached blonde hair. He reached for his goblet and took another sip, draining it of all its contents.

Suddenly, he felt sick and lightheaded. He let the cup tumble out of his hand. Every part of him felt heavy again, especially his eyelids. He couldn't feel anything once he let them close.

He let his lids blink open to the sight of Angelina and George standing in front of him. He lay on a couch, his head aching immensely. This was almost worse than that hangover after that New Year's Eve party in sixth year.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

Through his foggy vision, he could see Angelina give George a nudge.

"Look, mate, I'm sorry," George said, though Fred had no idea what he was apologizing for, "but I kind of messed up your date."

Fred shook his head, trying to clear it. "Wait, what? How?"

"Well, I kind of stuffed the nasty flavored beans into those cookies Mum sent, then I–" he cleared his throat, "I kind of … spiked your goblets with the Love Potion. It must've been too strong for you. At least we know there's still a few kinks to work out."

Fred buried his freckled face into a nearby pillow. "Was that it?" he muttered almost inaudibly through the pillow.

"Well …" George said.

Fred's face snapped back into view.

"Tell him!" Angelina demanded.

"You kind of turned her hair blonde."

"Pink _then _blonde," Angelina corrected.

Fred scoffed.

"Well, come on, mate. You've always seemed to have a thing for blondes."

Angelina just rolled her eyes at George, whereas Fred almost launched himself at his brother.

"Look, Fred, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit, you know? You seemed so stressed and–"

Fred rose to his feet, his head rushed as he tried to regain balance. "I'll deal with you later," he said to George.

"Think I should go home?" Angelina asked.

"Maybe, but I'll see you soon, I promise."

She laid her head against his shoulder, letting his hand run down her silky brown hair.

"How'd you change it back?"

"George did it. I'm rubbish at Transfiguration."

He laughed lightly, "Maybe you should've kept it. I _do _think blondes are rather attractive …"

She swatted his arm.

"Again with the violence? I was just kidding. I wouldn't change anything for the world."

"You just saved your ass right there."

He enveloped her in his arms and softly kissed her on her smooth cheek. "I don't know why he'd even think to give us a Love Potion. I mean, I love you already." _Okay, now _that _was cheesy_, Fred thought. But he didn't care.

She smiled, looking rather impressed on his smooth line. "Ten points to Fred."

He shrugged, "I try." He gave her a final kiss before letting her disappear through the fireplace.

He turned on his feet and back to his brother, the floor creaking beneath his shoes as he walked.

George immediately started to plea for forgiveness. "Look, I'm sorry, I just–"

George stopped as he watched the wicked humorous grin takeover Fred's face. He shook his head, rubbing his hands together, "I'm giving you five seconds head start Georgy, and then you're _dead_!"

"One… Two… Three…" George turned on his heel and booked it through the shop, laughter rolling out of his throat. "Four… Five… You're done, Weasley!"

Fred smiled, and with a deep sigh, he took off whisking his way around his joke shop in the late hours of the night.

**Boy, I love writing winter chapters during the summer!**

**I guess two Weasley boys to fell victim to a Love Potion that year!**

**Once again, make my life and review!**


	15. Rule Number 15

**Okay, this is probably the chapter that I'm most proud of in this entire story. It made me smile to the point where I thought I'd never stop. This was such a joy to write and I literally rolled on the floor laughing, not to brag or anything. But, in all honesty, this is probably the chapter I've worked the hardest on and I'd really appreciate it if I got a review or two that said how much they enjoyed it, too!**

**I really just wanted to make someone's day with this, because, to me, it's just such a pick-me-up.**

**Feel free to laugh!**

**Song: "I Wanna Go" by Britney Spears and "Young Folks" by Peter Bjorn and John**

Never get Exceedingly Drunk while in the Presence of Your Desired Witch or Wizard (on New Year's Eve)

"Alright, you lot," James addressed his fellow Marauders as he entered the common room. The scarlet walls glowed with the last remaining glimpses of daylight as the fire crackled, making James feel all the more at home. "Do we have everything set for tonight?"

Sirius' silver eyes looked up at him, hints of mischief lingering in them. "Hm, let me think. We've got the firewhiskey and … yeah. That's it," he said, checking off the only item on his mental supply list.

James laughed at his best friend. "Moony, what are you reading there?" he asked his other best friend, who was thoroughly engrossed in some sort of Muggle novel.

"Oh," Remus said, sliding a bookmark in between the pages. "Just a book my parents sent me for Christmas." He talked about his parents like it wasn't a big deal, but Remus really did miss them. He was supposed to go home for the holidays, but he considered the fact that, in a few days, the moon would become full, having its grueling effect on him, and he figured he'd like to be in the comfort of his friends at that time.

"That's nice," James said. An odd silence filled the room. "So … do any of you know who's all going tonight?"

A thunderous groan echoed through the walls of the common room. James' eyes darted at Sirius, who looked rather annoyed. "Look, mate, if you're inferring that you want to know whether _she's_ coming or not, just say so. Cause its kind of pathetic hearing you try and be all subtle about it."

"Well, what do you expect? I just want to know, ok?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Look, Prongs, if it'll give you any assurance whatsoever and will make you shut the hell up, Marlene said that she and Alice are coming and that they're trying to convince her to come."

A great wave of relief ran over him. "Thank God."

Sirius and Remus rolled their eyes and shook their heads at him. One of these days, either he or Lily would have to get over themselves.

"Hm," James pondered as a mischievous gleam took over his amber eyes, "I wonder what Evans is like drunk."

"Oh, God. I hope she's not needy," Remus said.

James laughed. "I do."

* * *

Each and every tree was crystallized with snowflakes clinging onto the branches, causing them to glitter in the pale moonlight. Lily's bright, twinkling, emerald eyes gazed at what appeared to be a forest of diamonds through her frosted window. Wispy cloud glowed as they were strung through the navy sky. She couldn't help smiling as she pressed her pale palm to the glass, feeling the refreshing sensation of the cold run through her. Tonight was going to be fun.

"Whatcha doing, Lils?"

Her thoughts being disrupted, she turned to see standing in front of her, a fellow sixth year girl standing just about five foot four with mermaid-like hair that flowed in ebony locks down to the small of her back, cream colored skin and eyes that were such a deep shade of indigo, you wanted to go swimming in them.

"Oh, Alice. Um … nothing, really. Just thinking about tonight. You, Marlene and I are just gonna have a fun girl's night together, right?"

Alice bit down on her cherry red bottom lip, something she always did when she felt guilty. "Yeah, about that, listen, I was in the common room and I overheard Remus saying something about a party and then he asked me if, you know, we'd like to go?" She phrased the last bit so it sounded more like an innocent question.

Lily, as expected, immediately refused. "What? Marlene and I aren't fun enough to be with?"

"No, that's not it at all! It's just, I thought it might be fun for _all_ of us to have a party."

Lily turned back to the window and away from her friend, "Then _all_ of you can go out and party, but just count me out. I'm definitely not in the mood to party with Potter."

Alice laughed, "It won't just be Potter. It's practically everyone who's here. Well, in sixth and seventh year, that is. Come on, Lils, I know you, and you, of all people, wouldn't want to be alone tonight."

"Well," she said sharply, "then you obviously don't know me, because that's exactly what I intend on doing!"

"Look," Alice said fireclay, taking Lily by the shoulder and turning her so that they were forced to be face to face, "I'm not allowing you to stay in tonight, you're coming out with us and we're going to have a good time with whoever's there, whether that includes James, Sirius, Remus and Peter or not."

A heavy breath escaped Lily. There was no way Alice was going to back down, she never did. In a way, it was a quality Lily admired her for, but at times like this, she wished Alice would just shove off.

"Come on," Alice said, a little gentler now. "Would you rather be here, having a party with your friends or back home." She folded her arms over her chest.

The last word caused Lily to shudder. _Home?_ There was no way in hell that she'd want to be home. She loved her family–her mother and father indefinitely–but her sister was just too much to handle, especially during the holidays. But, to make matters worse, Petunia had brought that whale crossed with a pig, Vernon Dursley, home! As hard as it was to admit, he was worse than Potter! In fact, he looked like he _ate_ Potter! There was no way that Lily was going home to that. Lily immediately shook her head.

"Lils, I love you, so I'm making you come out tonight. There's no way that I'm letting you not have fun on New Year's Eve."

* * *

Students from every house in sixth and seventh year all packed into the Astronomy Tower. Music thumped and the reverberations could be felt through the floorboards. It was obvious that some people were feeling the effects of the firewhiskey; girls twirled their hair and stumbled into the paths of guys acting incredibly needy and ditzy. Others … well, others were wild. They jumped around and danced in a way that Lily could only describe as "whipping their hair back and forth." She had to take a step back as Amos Diggory ran past her screaming, "I'M A HIPPOGRIFF! I'M A BLOODY HIPPOGRIFF!" Two other seventh year boys had to catch him before he went off the rails of the Tower.

She glanced around, looking for Alice, who had disappeared from her sight, when she felt something tap her on the shoulder.

She glanced over to see, Remus, a smile on his face, his hair not entirely messy, but messy enough to show that he'd been jumping around with his friends.

"Remus," Lily greeted him. Out of all the Marauders, Remus was the most tolerable. In a way, he kind of made her happy she came to the party. However he had a peculiar look in his eye, which Lily returned with a questioning glance.

"Look to your left," he muttered, his eyes quickly flickering in that direction.

As subtly as she could, Lily gazed over to the left, her eyes falling upon a tall, extremely matted, inky black haired, and amber eyes that lit up inside his glasses as his lips bent into a smile.

Lily quickly looked away before her green eyes met his hazel. She groaned noisily, causing Remus to chuckle.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said in an airy sigh. "I think I need a drink." She looked behind her at the refreshment table and grabbed a goblet containing the potent liquid that was firewhiskey. She tilted her head back as she took a sip. "It's going to be a long night."

A short amount of time had passed before the firewhiskey began to take its effect on Lily. She was still with Remus, but she'd found Alice and Marlene. They were all laughing and enjoying each other's company when Remus waved someone over. Through the mass of people Lily could see Sirius … followed by Potter.

"Remus," Lily whined. She'd done her best to avoid the treacherous Potter and his partner in crime, and now, Remus had ruined her efforts completely.

"Come on now, Evans, don't be a buzz kill!" James said ruffling her soft crimson locks.

Her radiant gems of eyes retracted into slits as she scowled at him.

The sky had turned pitch-black and Lily wondered how close it was until midnight. "Marlene, what time is it?"

Marlene glanced at her watch, "It's only ten."

"Goodie!" Alice burst out, "Just enough time for us to make up New Year's resolutions!"

"Alice," Remus said in a drab tone, "no one ever upholds their goals anyway. What's the point?"

"Well I've held mine up every single year," James said, his luminous hazel eyes glittering with glee as they beamed down at Lily.

"Here we go," Remus muttered tediously.

"What?" Alice laughed, "Has your goal always been to get Lily to go out with you?"

The Marauders looked at her as though her question answered itself.

"Well," Lily said, her words beginning to slur as she finished her first goblet, "then you obviously _haven't_ succeeded, have you, Potter, because I'm obviously _not _going out with you. Your _'goal'_ has rather been simply to _chase_ me. Rather pathetic, don't you agree?"

James laughed as she looked away and turned up her nose. "While you may call it pathetic, Evans, I call it persistent."

"Maybe a more promising goal would be to stop calling me Evans."

"Ah, well, if you say it's promising, then maybe I'll try it." He took a drink from his own goblet, while Lily pretended to pay no attention.

"Okay, okay!" Alice said, breaking up their miniature squabble. "Really though, guys, what are your resolutions?"

They all kept to themselves for a moment, pondering what they were planning to do in the New Year.

However, all thoughts were disrupted when Sirius burst out in a tone so excited and so loud that everyone jumped. "I've got it!" Everyone stared at him with questioning eyes. "I want a piece of Albus Dumbledore's beard!"

Everyone laughed uncontrollably. "Really, Sirius? _Really?_" Marlene asked.

His child-like expression saddened as his friends mocked him.

"Out of allthe things in the world, Sirius, you choose _that?_" Alice said as she clutched her side.

"Hey," Sirius said pouting, "it's a perfectly admirable goal!"

"Yeah," James said, trying to catch his breath, "You have to admit, that beard _is_ extravagant."

"Thank you," Sirius said.

"Why don't you just make your goal to grow your own beard like his if you admire it so much?" Lily asked teasingly.

Sirius cringed. "Ew."

His friends started laughing at him again, probably from the mental image of him with a four-foot long beard.

"You know what? I'm going to go get a piece of that beard just to prove to you that it's a credible goal and that you are all just a bunch of stupid buggering goats. James, Cloak!"

"Don't be so _pushy!_"

Sirius sighed, "I told you licorice wands and firewhiskey were a bad mix, now give me the damn Cloak!"

James sighed and glared at his best friend, handing him a piece of shimmering, metallic silk material.

"I'll meet you back here just to prove you all wrong!"

"Actually, mate, we were thinking of heading down to the Pitch. You wanna meet us there?"

"Fine," Sirius said so quickly it was almost as if he hadn't said anything at all. At that, he stumbled off into the crowd of bouncing teenagers, leaving the others blithering over what they'd just witnessed.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Sirius whispered as he watched the map reveal itself. As he unfolded the rough parchment, he gazed as footprints went across the page, names floating along with them in a curvy black script. He concentrated with all his might, trying to find Dumbledore's name. He'd assumed his name would show up around his office–where Sirius had been one too many times–but, to his surprise, and his amusement, he was with Rubeus Hagrid. Sirius' face lit up. _Yes!_ he thought, _He's at Hagrid's! _Without even thinking, his feet picked up from underneath him and he sprinted off in the direction of the hut.

Trenching his way through the thick snow, Sirius made his way to the hut where he could hear the giddy, lively voice of Dumbledore and the Booming laughter of Hagrid. He went right up to the window, right where Dumbledore and Hagrid were conversing over a bottle of mead.

"I'm tellin yeh, Albus. Don't yeh eat that many Fizzing Whizbees again, or I swear yer never gonna stop levitatin'!"

As Dumbledore laughed and swung his head back, almost in slow motion, his beard flipped about. Instantaneously, and at the right moment, Sirius outstretched his wand from the concealment of the Cloak and snipped off a portion of the snowy white beard. As the pieces begun to fall, he outstretched his hand and caught them, exclaiming his joy for his success a little too loudly.

"Did yeh hear that, Albus?" Hagrid's voice rumbled as he looked out of the window into the scenery of the wintry night.

"No, I do believe it's just the centaurs, they get rather grouchy this time of night."

Trying his best to contain his laughter, Sirius sprinted out to the Quidditch Pitch.

* * *

The layers of snow, which covered the grass, were brittle beneath their feet as Lily, Alice, Marlene, Remus, Peter and James walked onto the Quidditch Pitch. A shower of snowflakes sprinkled from the sky and the air nipped at their rosy cheeks, but no one seemed to care.

"Er, Potter, remind me the significance of us coming out here again?" Lily questioned in her tipsy voice.

"Because I wanted to!" James yelled in a childlike tone. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his wand, summoning his broomstick. It flew swiftly into his gloved hand and he set it on the ground, swinging his leg over as he prepared to take off, but just as he was about to, a voice echoed through the howling wind.

"Guys! I got it! I got it!" Through the pale moonlight, Sirius could be seen, running towards them at full speed, his dusty coal colored hair flailing wildly.

"What?" Remus questioned as Sirius approached them.

"I said I got it!" His hand reached into his pocket and withdrew a few strands of silvery hair. "I told you I would and that I'd prove that you're all just a bunch of gits!"

They all laughed at their friend, who was still overly impressed with his accomplishment. Then, James' attention turned back to his broom.

"What're you doing with that?" Sirius questioned.

"Flying, you prat!" James said, throwing him a look.

"Hey, Prongs," Remus said, "you do know you're rather drunk, right?"

James looked appalled. "I am most certainly _not!_"

"James," Alice said, "you took your sock off and threw it at a first year on the way down here and yelled, 'Be free, little House Elf! Be free!'"

James pouted while the others clutched their sides as they erupted into laughter.

"But seriously, James. You probably shouldn't drink and fly," Remus said.

"Yeah," Sirius concurred, "Don't you remember that time last year when we … well … you get the idea."

James shook his head, ignoring them. "Hey, Evans. Wanna ride my broomstick?" He added a wink.

Lily laughed, "A pickup line a day keeps me away."

"Ouch," Peter muttered.

"Fine. Then you can just observe from down here!"

"James, I don't–" Remus tried to stop him, but, before he could, James had kicked off the ground and was soaring through the rapidly falling snow. He zipped through the curves of the pitch, around the stands and through the goalposts, flying rather well for someone who'd had a large amount of firewhiskey in his system.

He swooped downwards, dipping as he went to do some sort of flip on his broom, but as he neared the ground, he somehow lost control, sending him and his broom towards the ground. He landed face down, luckily, in the cushiony, thick, white snow.

"Prongs!" Sirius shouted, while everyone was in shock and had an alarmed expression on their faces.

Suddenly, James' head popped up from the snow, his face as red as a cherry and a euphoric smile stretching across his face.

Sirius sighed in relief, "Well, considering the circumstances, I'd give that a nine out of ten. Next time, try and stick your landing."

"Can I do that again?" James asked, still lying in the snow.

"Hm, how about we save it for practice, alright?" Remus said, outstretching his hand for James to take.

James groaned, "You guys really aren't any fun."

"Here, let's go put this away," said Peter, picking up the broom from the snow.

"I'm coming with you," Remus said. Peter _did_ drink quite a bit at the Tower and, with Remus being the responsible one, he went with him.

"Moony," Peter said sleepily.

"Mmhmm?"

"I'm tired." Peter's eyes had bags underneath them, and Remus could he was having a hard time keeping them open.

"Oh, boy," Remus sighed.

Peter let out a long yawn as they reached the changing room. Remus took the broom from his hand and went to the back room where they were all stored. When he came back, he saw Peter, curled up in a ball, fast asleep on one of the benches.

"Great," Remus mumbled. "Pete," he said, poking him. "Pete, wake up." Peter still didn't move. "Peter Pettigrew, wake up this instant!" He was surprised at the realism of his motherly tone. He groaned loudly. "Wormtail …" he groaned. However, Peter didn't move a muscle. He stepped outside to yell to his friends. "Guys! I need your help."

When they all reached Peter asleep, they couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, Pete," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"Oi! Wake up!" James yelled.

"Not gonna work," Remus said.

"Here," Alice said. She pointed her wand at him, sending a spark towards his behind. Peter just shifted and swatted the air.

"What do we do?" Lily asked.

"I don't think we could carry him," Alice said.

James shrugged, "Just leave him here."

"What?" Lily asked, wide eyed. "You want to _leave _him?"

"He'll be fine," James assured her. "Besides, it's not like this is the first time this has happened."

"Not like it's the first –what kind of friends are you?"

A throaty chuckle escaped James. "Come on, Evans. What do you say we continue this little adventure?"

They'd walked for about ten minutes, which, in the bitter cold, felt like endless hours.

"Alright. Let's stop here," James said, as they approached the Hogwarts Lake. The typically black water was frozen over, the moonlight reflecting off of its rimy surface.

Alice flopped onto the ground, taking Lily and Marlene by their arms, pulling them down with her.

"Let's make snow angels!" Marlene shouted. They all flapped their arms and legs, making marks in the fresh snow.

James laughed at them, but then he felt Sirius tug at his sleeve. He motioned for him to come onto the ice.

"What?" James asked, rather confused as to why he was out there.

"Shh," Sirius said. He pointed his wand at the ice and made a small crack in it.

"Padfoot, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Just wait! Call Evans over here."

"What? Why would I–?"

"Just do it!"

Still baffled, but obeying Sirius, he called her over. "Evans! Come over here, will you?"

Lily sat up from her snow angel. "Why, Potter? Want to go ice skating?"

"You think I can skate? No way!"

"Then what, may I ask, does it involve?"

"Not telling."

"Then I'm not coming."

"I will tell you, however, that it involves a certain ribbiting treat."

"A ribbiting treat? What do you–" Lily broke off midsentence, her radiant eyes enlarging. He was referring to Chocolate Frogs. Of course! James had given her a full basket containing around twenty of them in her fourth year, along with a note trying to win her affection. She took the chocolate but disregarded the note. However, ever since that day, James Potter had known her guilty pleasure and the way to get her to do just about anything–except go out with him, that was.

Lily rose to her feet, making her way onto the ice, slipping as she made her way over to James, who had a smug smile on his face.

"Alright, Potter. Give me my–" She couldn't finish. A rush of frigid water engulfed her. It ate through her skin and right to her bone. She begun to scream and bubbles rose through bleak water. Through the murkiness, she could see a hand outstretched for her. She could tell instantly that it was James' and her instincts told her not to take it and to just drown in this body of freezing water. However, something else told her to grab his hand and let him pull her to the surface.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" She yelled at the top of her lungs whilst spitting out water. "I–could–have–_died_, you–ass! There–are–bloody–Merpeople–down–there–and–grindylows–and, damn–it, Potter, there's–the–bloody–Giant–Squid!" She swatted him between every word.

He took her hands, which were as cold as ice cubes, in his own. "Evans, chill!" He laughed at his little pun while her face, which was nearly blue, begun to redden with anger. "It wasn't _my _idea, as hard as that may be for you to believe." His hazel eyes darted at Sirius, who sheepishly begun to back away. "I had no idea what he was doing!"

"Oh, for that, I want you to give me all the Chocolate Frogs you could possibly buy!"

When they reached the snowy shore, her friends were panicked and Lily was shivering uncontrollably.

"Here, I'll warm you up." He flung his arm over her shoulder. However, she instantly shrugged it off.

"With your _wand_, Potter," she growled.

James looked at his fellow Marauders with an overly ecstatic expression. "Oh, okay then!"

"Ew!" Lily shrieked. "_Not what I meant!_"

"Okay, you two," Alice interjected. "We'd better get back to the castle."

"Yeah, it's almost midnight," Remus said.

James performed a quick drying spell that made Lily's quivering stop. She didn't bother to thank him, but simply turned her face away.

"Hey, Sirius," Marlene said in a syrupy voice. "I'm kind of cold." She moved closer to his side. Her glossy eyes looked up at him and she batted her feathery lashes.

Sirius chuckled, "Oh, well I'm sure James would be more than glad to warm you up now that his ego's been severely bruised." Everyone chuckled aside from James, who scowled at his best friend, and Marlene, who frowned and hid her face from Sirius.

In the Astronomy Tower, the party was still running wild with students. Amos Diggory was still under the impression that he was a magical creature, goblets of intoxicating substances were still being emptied and music blared to the point where the bass had the same intensity as an earthquake.

"Hey, everybody!" an obviously wasted Ravenclaw girl yelled to the crowd. "It's eleven fifty nine! That's …" she took a second to think, "one minute until midnight!"

Lily heard someone sigh beside her. "I really want a New Year's kiss," Lily heard Marlene say, her head tilted, her eyes sad as they wandered over to where Sirius was drinking as much as he possibly could before the clock struck twelve. Marlene always got like this, sort of needy, when she'd been drinking. But whenever Lily saw how much Marlene wanted someone, it made Lily think of how much someone wanted her …

The chanting of students had begun as they counted down the final remaining seconds of 1976. They'd reached thirty, and Lily had begun counting down with them, when her vibrant jade eyes fell upon a pair of searching topazes.

He approached her, and it seemed as though Lily was frozen to the spot.

_"Ten, nine, eight seven …"_

_ He's going to kiss me … he's going to kiss me … he's going to kiss me … What are you doing, Lily? _She tried to force herself to walk away, get somewhere far away from him, but, for some strange reason, she couldn't.

_"Five, four …"_

He reached her, his face inches from hers. He tucked a strand of carmine hair behind her ear, tickling her cheek in the process. Her green eyes locked with his hazel as he came even closer.

_ "Three …"_

He leaned in.

_"Two …"_

Suddenly, his lips past hers and went to her ear. She could hear his breathing and the words that followed.

_"One …"_

"Happy New Year, _Lilly_."

She stood, rooted to the spot, with James next to her, as fireworks erupted into the sky.

**So there's probably my most fun piece of writing I've done in a **_**really **_**long time. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Oh, and also, my school year's about to start in a matter of days, so if you enjoy my story, I'll try and update as much as I can.**

**Haha, it's fun writing about the winter in the summer. :)**


	16. Rule Number 16

**Okay, it's been a while since the last update! Here's my newest Ron/Hermione/THE EVEIL LAVENDER scenario! I know it's short, but please enjoy!**

**Thanks to my reviewers, , austheke, KaleidoscopeKate, littleLaralevin and my best friends Hailey and Stacey.**

**So, I'm having kind of the worst week ever, and this chapter was an escape from that. So, if you wanna make my life, please leave me a review!**

Never get Yourself into a Relationship with an Annoying Witch Or Wizard … Period

Studying was a royal pain for one Ronald Weasley. All the reading, the note taking, the _comprehending _of information was too much to handle for the brain under that ginger head of hair. Thankfully, Ron had an exceptionally helpful aid; a walking-talking encyclopedia on everything magical and non-magical. If someone asked her a question, she could immediately generate the correct response. Every report card she received had a series of Os for Outstanding (with the odd E for Exceeds Expectations handed to her by the stubborn Professor Snape when she clearly deserved an O.) Either way, she was Ron's savior when it came to his wizarding education.

It had been a week since he'd been released from Madam Pomfrey's intensive care in the hospital wing, after he'd had a little incident with a certain love potion, and his head was still a little fuzzy.

"Alright," Hermione said, sounding rather chipper for someone who was studying, "Now the only potion we have left to cover is …" She trailed off, and a frightened look crossed her eyes.

"Yes?" Ron asked, his blue eyes questioning her brown.

She bit her rosy lip in a nervous attempt to hide something.

"What? What is it?" He looked at the piece of parchment on which Hermione had written down every potion they would need to know for Slughorn's upcoming test. Written in her neat flowing script was "Amortentia." Ron cringed as his eyes scanned over the word. "I never want to hear about another bloody love potion ever again."

"Right, well, we don't have to cover that one. I suppose you've … er … become familiar enough with its affects."

Ron's pale hand pushed the paper away from him.

"Maybe we should just study for Defense Against the Dark Arts instead. I'll go get a different book," Hermione said, trying desperately to change the subject. Ron, on the other hand, sat silently, trying to forget about that stupid potion. Stupid potions, stupid exams, stupid week, stupid girls … a bony hand slid across his shoulder.

"There you are," a high-pitched, syrupy voice said.

Ron's eyes widened with terror. He had been found. Slowly he sunk deeper into his chair, hoping she would raise her fingers off his shoulder. Steadily, he turned to face her, anticipating something dreadful.

Lavender stood in front of him, her lips pursed together in a tight line and her arms folded over her chest. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days and her hair was frizzier than Hermione's: if that was at all possible.

"Er, hello," Ron said, wanting his damn body to listen to him for once and not give away his terror. She was just a bloody girl for Merlin's sake. The most _she _could do was snog him to death. Ron shuddered, questioning himself just as he had from the beginning. He gazed up at her dumbfounded, waiting for her to say something.

"Well aren't you going to ask me what's the matter?" she snapped shortly.

Ron hesitated.

"_Well?_"

"Well … I can't see why anything is wrong in the first place?"

Lvender took a deep shaky breath, a tightlipped half hearted grin quivered at her lips, "I'm sure you've heard about the _incident_."

Ron widened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow in confusion. He was completely unaware as to what she was referring to.

"Don't you play dumb with me, Ronald."

"I ate chocolates with love potion in them… but how is that my fault?" Ron responded slowly.

Fury could be seen bubbling up in Lavender's eyes, ready to erupt. "You said her name! _Her _name! In the hospital while _I _was there for you, at your side, you muttered '_Hermione_'!" Her voice had been raised significantly, and a few of the other students glanced over at them questioningly, and the librarian threw them a glare and a hissing "shh!"

Ron, on the other hand, was looking perplexed and scared.

Lavender let out a sigh, grabbing onto his arm, "I'm sorry, Won Won." She took a step closer to him and put a hand on his arm. "I just get these looks in the halls from people. They think you two have got something going on. But they don't know about this unbreakable bond we have, this indescribable love. They don't know anything about us. But they don't matter; because I know that I'm more important than she is–" She stopped as she heard a loud bang. Both she and Ron looked over to see Hermione, who had dropped a towering stack of books onto the floor.

Ron and Lavender's eyes both stuck like glue to Hermione's face. The brunette witch hovered on the spot, her eyes reminiscent of a deer stuck in headlights. Ron's gaze flicked back to Lavender. Tears were swimming in her eyes, ready to trickle down her face.

Ron's worried eyes flickered between the two of them, unsure of what to do.

Lavender released her death grip on Ron's wrist, and he staggered backwards. Then, Lavender's face turned a shade of carmine. The tears that were in her eyes were no longer visible, as though they'd been singed by her fuming expression. This was vexation, vexation in its purest form. Ron thought she was going to lunge straight at Hermione, who had reached down, slowly gathering her books, her eyes still pinned on the two of them.

"Right then," Lavender whispered, her voice pitchy as her throat filled with sobs. She whipped around, heading straight through the door at a lightening speed. Ron was sure that anyone who was in her way was sure to experience at least a few bumps and bruises. He took a deep relieved breath, slumping back into his chair. Hermione joined him, slowly laying books on the table, waiting for him to say something.

"Is there anything about defending yourself from crazy, raging girls in those books?" Ron asked, his eyes scanning their worn, leather covers.

Hermione shook her head cautiously.

"Well there bloody should be."


	17. Rule Number 17

**So, it's been a since I've posted, but I have a new chapter that I'm sure a lot of my faithful readers will like!**

**A lot of credit for this chapter goes to my best friend, Stacey. She's one of the best editors ever and I love her so much for helping me out.**

**Also, I want to thank _yellow 14_, the lovely, and all the other reviewers that have left me feedback. Also, as much as I greatly appreciate all the favourites I get, if you could give me a review and tell me what you think, that would be extremely appreciated. If I could maybe get … hmm … seven reviews for this chapter, because of all the hours of effort that went into it, that would be so amazing.**

**Songs: "Stutter" by Maroon 5 and "David" by lady danville**

Never Steal Your Witch or Wizard's Towel

Lily Evans had been in a stuck in the flurry of a notoriously stressful week. Firstly, Professor McGonagall had given her a list of Prefects duties that had to be performed. Then, she received an E on her History of Magic Essay when it _clearly _deserved an O, especially after all the extra hours she had spent slaving away in the library for extra research. Then to top it all off, she had three papers and a project due on the same day. Lily had been caught up in a whirlwind of a to-do list, yet now that she had completed putting the finishing touches on her Potions paper and had just finished her Prefects rounds, it was time for her to relax.

She made her way to the Prefect's bathroom, uttering the protective password to enter. The moonlight shone through the stain glass window, reflecting off the marble floor of the lonely room. Lily slipped into her white and navy polka dotted one piece, twisting her auburn hair up into a bun as she made her way over to the faucet. The colors flowed from the faucet, splashing against the stone tub. She slid into the temperate bath, feeling the frothy bubbles fizz around her, melting the tension from her muscles as she let her emerald eyes close, her soul relishing the serenity.

She listened to the water swirling around her and relished in the tranquility she currently had. A peaceful wave pulled her deeper into the water, she sighed deeply, relishing the solitude, until she heard whispering voices.

"You take your Prefect stuff so seriously," someone said with a chuckle. Her eyes shot open, the sound of his voice throbbed in her head. "I don't understand why you're so paranoid, Moony. It's not like anyone can see me."

"Because if someone sees us, I might as well turn in my Prefects badge right now. And that means that I don't get all these privileges. Then I can't sneak you around. So I'd be a bit more gracious if I were you."

Lily groaned in displeasure. _Great_, she thought, _I might as well drown myself now._

"Oh, Lily," a voice she loathed said, "I had no idea you'd be here." And as if appearing from thin air, James Potter stood in front of her, clothed only in swimming trunks. Lily couldn't help noticing his rippling arms and abs … but she quickly rolled her eyes at him. He placed a shimmering piece of fabric by her towel on the edge of the bath before jumping in, causing the water to splash Lily's now fumingly red face.

"Hey! Watch yourself, Potter!" Lily said shrilly, brushing water out of her eyes. She whirled around to face the other boy, who seemed rather uneasy. "Really Remus? I know he's your friend and all, but _really?_ Isn't this place supposed to be for, well, _mature_ people?"

"Hey! _You _watch yourself, Evans! Who are you to judge my maturity?" James retorted, a mocking grin spreading across his face.

Lily rolled her eyes, "I'm sixth year victim of your immature nonsense."

Remus chuckled nervously, "I'm really sorry. You haven't seen his puppy dog eyes … I'm a weak man, okay? Your not going to turn me in simply because I cracked under pressure, are you?" Remus pleaded, subtly attempting puppy dog eyes of his own.

Lily crossed her arms in front of her slender torso. "Only beacuse its you, Rem, I guess I'll let it slide."

Remus' shoulders slumped, a cheeky grin crossing his face as he slid into the pool, joining James and Lily. "Thanks, Lils."

Lily offered him a friendly grin, "Your lucky I like you."

James moved closer to Lily, his hazel eyes glinting with confidence. "No, he's just lucky that you have a hidden crush on me and secretly would do anything for me, right, mate?" Remus kneed James' side pointedly chiding him.

"Shut it, Prongs!" he growled warningly.

Lily casually turned her head as she pointed towards the door, "You know, I could just go and get McGonagall right now. Really, it would be the proper thing to do with me being a Prefect and all …" She pulled herself onto the slippery edge, standing on her unsteady feet as she started to back towards the door.

"No!" James and Remus yelled in unison. Lily bit back a giggle at their displeasure.

"Remus is lucky you like him. That's it, nothing else!" James exclaimed, moving to the edge of the pool and glancing up at her. "Come back in before you get cold, Evans. Really, you know you don't want to go to McGonagall. She's scary at this time of night."

Lily grinned widely, "Your right, James; I am cold."

"Are you implying that you need someone to warm you up? Because I'm available." James' slick confidence teased in his tone.

She rolled her eyes, slipping back into the pool. The two boys were modeling similar relieved expressions as they sunk back into the water in front of her. "So why are you guys here anyway? Shouldn't you be off doing something that I'd give you detention for?"

James chuckled, "Sirius is in Hogsmeade, getting some … er … new supplies for us. Remus decided he should bring me up here to take a break and come relax before Quidditch practice resumes tomorrow. What's your story?"

"All the work from the teachers, plus McGonagall's duty list has me considering going absent without leave. But before I take that extreme, I thought I might just take a dip to relax."

"Christ, how much work does that old cat have you doing?" James asked, slowly edging closer to her, "It seems as if you're always running around like a damn squirrel doing all these Prefect jobs. You need to tell her to find someone else to load all of the work on sometimes. Seriously, do you ever take a break?"

"What kind of question is that?" Remus said, teasingly.

"This is my break," She sighed, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the refreshingly cool stone, "Or at least it was, until you two showed up."

James peered at her, his gaze stroking her face. She opened one eye, meeting his stare. "What?"

He looked away from her uncomfortably, then ran a hand through his hair nervously before meeting her gaze again. He offered her a half grin, "I like your hair like that."

Lily was taken aback, she lifted her head off the ledge and looked at him properly, "What do you mean?"

James eyes were warm as he moved closer, sitting merely a foot away from her. "All tied back like that; you can see your face better. He raised a hand half out of the water, letting it hover in the air for a few seconds before his fingers fumbled with a stray curl dangling by her ear.

Lily felt her face flush and her breathing became shallow. She looked away, letting her eyes fall upon the window. "The moon is really bright tonight, isn't it?" She cursed her sharp voice for betraying her feelings.

"Yeah, only another four days until its full," Remus said dully.

"Really? I can't remember the last time I saw a full moon, maybe I'll go check it out with Marlene or Mary."

"Don't!" James exclaimed, a little so loud that it. Lily looked bewildered at the two boys who had raised shoulders and rigid faces. James cleared his throat, forcing his shoulders to relax and, with an obvious effort, he loosened his face. "I just mean, it's supposed to be foggy on that Friday. Besides, Evans, I'm not even available this Friday; and if your planning on stargazing, well, I wouldn't want to let you miss out on my astronomy skills."

Lily rolled her eyes, "I think you've forgotten that I've taken astronomy for the last three years too, Potter, but if you insist …"

James grinned mischievously, "What did you get on your OWL?"

Lily frowned as she thought, "An E, why?"

James chuckled, meeting her gaze, "I got an O."

Lily's eyes narrowed, enviously, "No you didn't!"

"Yes, I di-" A wave of water splashed against his face, Lily had cut him off, to Remus' amusement, as she kept splashing furiously right at James.

"There's no way in hell you got an O! You didn't get an O–AHH!" James and Remus had both dived under the water, grabbing her legs and tipping her back into the bubbly whirlpool.

She reemerged, spitting water and squinting through her stinging eyes. James and Remus edged away from her as she blinked her eyes furiously, peering around for them. Her gaze fell upon them, and she shook her head menacingly, her eyes sharp as ice. Lily slowly wadded through the water, coming closer to the two Marauders.

"Lily, it was merely self defense, " James muttered feverishly as he backed into the corner.

"Really, you were practically drowning him. We had to," Remus responded as his back hit the ledge. Lily was towering over them and they cowered in the corner, to the redheads delight.

"That really is truly the most pathetic argument I've ever heard," Lily, said bluntly, she placed her hands on top of the two boys heads, shoving their faces into the soapy water. Their heads bobbed back to the surface and they spluttered rounding on her forebodingly. Remus opened his mouth, with a clear intent to put the girl in her place, but Lily cut him off. "Don't even try to argue. You know you deserved it."

James shook his head, sending water everywhere like a dog after a swim. "I'll get you back when the opportunity arises, darling," he said smiling, a few soapy bubbles still clinging to his dripping, black hair.

Lily rolled her eyes, slumping back into the water. The boys picked up a casual conversation, their voices echoing against the tall walls. She tuned them out, basking in the warm water. She sighed and allowed her eyes to study the pale layout of the room.

The gold faucet appeared massive as its gold shone in the natural light. The water was streaked with swirls of soapy colors, kept from diffusing by the magic mysteries of the castle. Her eyes travelled to the intricately designed marble ceiling, to the shallow circular pool in which they sat. Finally, her eyes rested on James Potter, whose eyes were set right on her, in a transfixed stare.

"James, can I ask you a question?" Lily asked, her tone casual, and her composure cool.

He winked at her, "Anything you want," a hint of poise in his every word.

She smiled politely, "Why do I always catch you staring at me?"

Remus piped up with a snigger, "Because he's never not staring at you."

James nodded playfully, "Couldn't have said it better myself, Moony."

Lily rolled her eyes, "But why? Why must you stare at me?"

Remus snorted, catching both Lily and James' attention. "Well it's obvious, isn't it?" Lily glanced between James and Remus uncertainly.

"Apparently not …" James filled in, running a hand through his wet flop of hair. "And you'd think after five years, she'd figure it out." Remus laughed, clapping James on the back.

"Figure what out? I'm so lost." Lily asked, her mouth falling open as she thought, _What's obvious?_

"I look at you because I don't want to look at anyone else; you're the only one in my eyes." James shrugged, his gaze flickering between the water and her wide emerald eyes.

Lily's fingers went numb and her mouth went dry as it hung slightly open in surprise. The seriousness of his tone had left her speechless.

"You corny bastard, you." Remus chuckled; messing James soaked hair with his palm. They both laughed, before James returned his attention to Lily.

She simply stared at James as he quivered restlessly. He leant over and shared a thought with Remus, who nodded with a wide grin.

"Well, me and Remus better get going. I guess we'll see you back in the common room. Do try to relax before you have to go back to doing McGonagall's list of dirty work."

James had recovered his silky confidence and he and Remus slipped out of the pool.

Lily could hear them move around behind her as James slipped the invisibility cloak over his shoulders, and both of them clinched towels around their waists. She was still stunned into silence. The sentimentality was new to her; there was a side to James she hadn't even been exposed to before. This side wasn't the typical Marauder side, that prided itself upon tomfoolery. This side was … _deep._

"See you around, Evans," James' smooth voice said from behind her. The footsteps echoed across the room and Lily didn't look back.

Lily sat in the water as she heard the door close behind the two boys. She hadn't moved an inch since James had surprised her. Her thoughts bubbled in her head, coming to a hot boil as they threatened to give her a headache.

"_You're the only one in my eyes." _Lily gave a forced laugh. She bit her lip, her fingers grasping at her damp hair. James was only joking, wasn't he? _He had to have been joking, _Lily assured herself. But something about the tone of his voice made it clear to her; James hadn't been joking, he was completely serious.

A wave of shivers splintered down her spine. She was frightened by her realization. Almost instantaneously, she noticed that the water had begun to cool, and the room became dimmer as the moon slid beyond the view of the glass window. Lily felt an urge to get out of the room.

Hastily, she pulled the plug on the giant drain, and stepped out of the tub. Her mind was still dizzy and exhausted, but her muscles had melted into a cool leisurely state. She sighed, forcing the thoughts from her head.

With a shiver, she shuffled over to the towel hooks, where she had left her towel, and her clothes and wand in a neatly folded pile in one of the cubbyholes in the wall. As she approached the hooks, she realized that her towel wasn't there. Her clothes had also disappeared from the niche she had left them in. Lily frowned, she had been positive that she had left her stuff there.

She peered into the u-bend; none of her things were in sight. Scanning her mind, she walked all along the edges of the tub, checked the sinks and the counters beside the mirrors. Despite her usually calm demeanor, Lily started to panic. It was getting late, and her clothes couldn't be found anywhere. Without her wand, she couldn't conjure anything, and the halls were empty now since it was past curfew, so she couldn't even peak her head out the door to ask for help. Lily was _not _storming through the school half naked; the only option was finding her clothes. Or else, it appeared as if she was sleeping in the U-bend with moaning myrtle.

Her tongue moved furiously, clucking in frustration. A thought struck her mind, and her jaw dropped, her face turning cherry red in fury. _"I'll get you back when the opportunity arises, darling."_ Lily screamed loudly in aggravation, the sound piercing the uncomfortable silence of the room. Her hands clutched into fists, and she blinked back the tears as the reality of the situation slapped her across the face.

They had taken her towel, her clothes and her wand, leaving her stripped helpless. She had no choice; she had to make a run for it. She shook her hands anxiously, hovering in front of the door. One quick sprint, she wouldn't stop at all, for anything. Maybe nobody would recognize her, if she didn't stop. _I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill James Potter. I swear he's dead, _Lily thought, her breathing becoming shallow with angst. She reached for the handle, _one sprint, and its over. _

The door swung open, and quite startled, Lily jumped back, just enough to avoid being hit. In the doorframe stood Professor McGonagall, dressed in deep purple sleeping robes and a matching purple witch hat. Her eyes were weary as she stared at Lily. "Good heavens, dear, was that you who screamed?"

Lily shook her head, a relieved smile breaking across her face. She bit back the desire to give her professor a huge hug. "I don't have any clothes, nor my towel, and my wand is gone too! I'm sorry, professor, I just was thinking that I'd have to run back to the common room, l ike … like this!" The words spilled from her mouth, shivering as the cold air surrounded her.

McGonagall nodded understandingly, pulling her wand from inside her robes, and removing her hat from the top of her head. "Well, let's see," she held the wand in her hand and pointed it at the crooked witch hat. She muttered a simple charm, and with a small flash of red, the hat turned into a towel, the same deep purple as the hat had been.

Lily accepted the towel, thanking her transfiguration teacher graciously. She wrapped it around herself, pulling it tight to conceal her body.

"I'm assuming that your belongings didn't simply go missing of their own accord?"

Lily shook her head, "No, they were taken."

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, her face emotionless except for the corners of her mouth, which were threatening at a smile. "As you are a Prefect, I trust that I can leave you to decide upon what will surely be a fair punishment. Am I right, Ms. Evans?"

"Yes," Lily grinned, ideas broiling in her head, "Indeed you are."

"Yeah, it is true. I really did work with the Minister of Magic this summer. No, really, he came over for tea every Sunday night."

"Wow, James? So you see him often then? That's so cool, do you think you could like introduce me one day?"

"Well, of course–"

"JAMES POTTER"

James eyes shot up when he was cut off, as did those of the three fifth year girls he was trying to impress. Lily Evans was marching towards him across the common room, her hair still sopping wet, yet to his surprise, she had tied a violet towel across her bust, concealing the navy one piece from everyone's view.

James heard one of the fifth years whisper to her friends as Lily joined them, sparking the others to giggle. James bit his lip, stifling a choke of laughter, which he knew would get him slapped. Her emerald eyes burned up at him like hot embers, her arms folded against her chest pointedly. "Is there something that you would like to discuss?" James asked, fighting to keep his face blank and his voice laid-back.

"Yes, James. There _is_ something that I would like to discuss_._" Lily said a bitter grimace on her face as she glared at James, her rage bitterly sending James insides spinning.

"Ladies," he muttered, his eyes coolly glued to Lily's face as he towered over her. "You wouldn't mind excusing Ms. Evans and myself for a moment, would you?"

They giggled clearly finding the situation highly amusing, their feet shuffling against the carpet as they made to leave. "No," Lily protested, her arm shooting out and catching the wrist of the tall blonde, "Stay, I won't be long. Only a minute, then James' attention will be _all _yours_._"

James chuckled to himself, rubbing his jaw. Payback was itching in her voice, and he could tell she was playing him at his own game. He had no choice but to save himself from total destruction. "Don't lie to those girls, you know my attention is always with you, Lilybird." James stepped closer to her, until he could hear her steady breath. She had to tilt her head up to glare at him, and he smirked at her, loving the way it set her eyes to a venomous emerald smolder.

"Here," Lily said, tilting her head to the side, pulling a folded parchment from under her arm and handing it to James, "This belongs to you."

James took it in his hand, glancing it and turning it over in his hands curiously, "What's this?" The giggling girls hushed as they leant in closer, trying to get a better look at the new topic of interest.

"_Well, _James … remember how you were saying how I really need to take a break sometimes, and how McGonagall should find someone else to load all of her work on?" Lily smiled, her voice coated in sugary deceit.

James didn't respond. He merely stared at her with questioning eyes, a worrisome gulp sinking in his torat.

"As it so happens, McGonagall seemed to be in total agreement with you. _Funny, _isn't it?"

James bit his lip, unfolding the parchment and letting his eyes skip over the words, a deep moan escaping his chest. "_List of Prefect Duties for the Week_ …" he muttered in confusion. Then, his eyes widened in bewilderment. You've got to be kidding me!"

Lily didn't say anything back, but stood there with her mouth in a fine line, the corners upturned with the satisfaction she received from the look on James' face.

"You're killing me, woman," he said, shaking his head.

The other girls gasped, as Lily shocked him, closing the gap between them. She pulled herself up to his ear, and he could feel her damp scarlet hair dancing at his collarbone. Her voice was dripping with ferociousness, and he could hear the satisfied smile that was sitting on her face, "No, James, you're not dead … _yet_. McGonagall will be expecting you tomorrow at 5am. Sharp."

Lily lowered herself down back to her feet, and James' chest clenched longingly. She reached up, smacking his cheek in a dominant manner. "Bye, ladies." Lily teased, turning on her heel and striding away from them, holding her purple towel tucked close.

"I love you too, Evans!" James called, loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Lily didn't turn around; she simply lifted her hand into the air and told him exactly what she thought without a sound. James chuckled, ruffling his hair with his hand as he tossed the parchment onto the table nearby. He had been out-Maraudered.

**So tell me, did you guys laugh a lot?**

**Let me know!**


	18. Rule Number 18

**Hello, my faithful readers! Now I think we all make lists of things we want to complete over the summer, but it seems so hard to get around to doing all of it! Therefore, I'm sorry for the extremely lengthy delay in an update for all of you who really do rely on this magical dating guide! However, I would like everyone to know how hard my trusty editor, Stacey, and myself worked on it. Anyways, here you go! Please enjoy! I'll definitely try never to make you guys wait that long for a new chapter ever again!**

**For all of you Harry/Ginny shippers, this one's for you!**

**Song: "Kiss Me" by Newfound Glory**

Never Give your Witch or Wizard Bewitched Butterbeer for Valentines Day

"Morning!" Ginny chimed as she sat down next to Harry, Ron and Hermione at the breakfast table.

"Morning," they all replied grogilly.

She leant over, giving Harry a kiss before pouring herself a goblet of sweet pumpkin juice. "So what do you all have planned today?"

"Well, after breakfast we have a test in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape," said Hermione.

"He said it was going to be more than two rolls of parchment long, and I don't really even understand how to preform this one damn counter curse!" Ron said, anxiety distinct in his voice.

"Wait," Harry said, "that test is today?"

Hermione nodded with a definite certainty. "The thirteenth, remember?"

"Ugh," Harry groaned, "I thought it was tomorrow. I was going to study tonight. Hold on a second, it's the thirteenth already?"

"Mmhmm, you know what that means," said Ginny, slightly playful.

"Yeah, we have a Quidditch game in two days. What do you say we go down and practice tomorrow night?" he said, directing his attention to both Ron and Ginny.

"Er … okay," said Ron.

Everyone was staring at him as though he had four heads. _What's their problem_, Harry wondered to himself.

"Um, Harry," Hermione said, "you _do_ remember that tomorrow's Valentine's Day, don't you?"

_Dammit, _Harry immediately thought. "Of course I know that!" he lied, "I was only joking." He let out a fake laugh, but none of his friends joined in. "Anyways, have anything that you'd like to do tomorrow, Gin?"

She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, "Nothing, really. I'm not the expecting type, you know. We can just hang around the common room like usual … I was never really much of a Valentine's Day fan anyways."

"You sure, because–" Harry began before being cut off.

"Yeah, but I better go. Flitwick hates when people are late. Bye." She got up, gave a curt wave to the table and disappeared through the wide doorframe of the Great Hall before Harry could get in another word.

"What on _Earth_ was that?"Hermione exclaimed as soon as Ginny was out of earshot, slamming her hands on the table with a glare aimed at Harry.

"Was your jam a little too tart today?" questioned Harry. "You seem to be a little sour this morning, Hermione."

"Well maybe, if you pulled your head out of your cauldron and treated your girlfrienda little better, I wouldn't have to be so sour."

"_What?_" said Harry, utterly baffled. "She said she didn't want to do anything!"

Hermione gave him a condescending glare. "She's a _girl, _you _simpleminded arse!_"

"But it's _Ginny!_ You heard her, she doesn't even like Valentine's Day!"

Hermione groaned, "For Merlin's sake, Harry, think rationally for a moment; she's lying! Now she thinks that you didn't remember–like tomorrow's not of any importance to you at all. Either that or she thinks you're just pretending because you have some surprise planned. Wait," Hermione hesitated, "you _do _have something planned, don't you?"

Harry didn't respond, but merely tried to avoid Hermione's expecting glare. He _was _an ass: a complete and utterly idiotic ass. That must've been what Ginny was thinking. He'd practically just said there was no significance to tomorrow, and to Ginny–to any girl, for that matter–that probably meant she was of no significance to him; even though Harry knew that wasn't true.

Hermione, after noticing that Harry indeed did_ not _have a plan for tomorrow, sent her face crashing into her palm, "You're unbelievable."

Harry looked at Ron for assistance. However, he simply said, "It's true, mate. You're lucky she didn't just give you one of her bat bogey hexes. But it's true that if Valentine's Day isn't absolutely perfect for girls, then it might as well be the apocalypse. Thank God I'm not dating Lavender anymore," he muttered to his teacup as he took a sip.  
Harry's breath shortened as the rush of panicked thoughts flooded his head. How on _Earth_ was he supposed to make tomorrow perfect? Ginny, however, wasn't the type of girl that expected perfection. To shower her in roses of the richest red and offer her lavish, decadent chocolates would do no good. No, she definitely wasn't like that in the least.

"I've got an idea!" Ron piped up. "Hermione, quick. Hand me some parchment and your quill." Scribbling with the sparse amount of ink in Hermione's fluffy, white quill, Ron franticly wrote a letter. He found his barn owl, Pigwidgeon, who had been delivering the morning post, attached the letter to its leg and commanded, "Take this to Fred and George Weasley in Diagon Alley."

He turned to his friends, whom both had clueless looks on their faces.

"Everything will be fine," Ron said, releasing a heavy breath. However, both of his friends continued to eye him with skepticism. "Oh, come off it! This one's _actually _a good idea!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look and surrendered with coy nods.

"Alright," their grinning, ginger-haired friend said. "Now who wants to help me with those bloody counter curses?"

Later that night, Harry was attempting to study for Charms without Hermione's aid, and was failing miserably. He sat by the crackling fire, desperately wanting to toss his books into the fireplace and watch the pages be devoured by the hungry orange flames. He slammed the cover of his text closed, letting his head flop into his hands. Just as he was considering a second go at _Chapter 10: Nonverbal Spells_, he heard the pitchy cry of an owl. He immediately turned around to see if it was the same fawn, beige colored owl he had sent off that morning. To his great relief, it was Pig, and in his curled talons, he gripped a package. _Thank goodness_, Harry thought. He then grabbed the package from the owl's grasp and raced upstairs.

He frantically began tearing the wrappings off the parcel. Inside, he found two large bottles of butterbeer along with some sweets. Harry noticed something peculiar about the bottles, however. The pink label read, "Loverbeer." There were also pink, bubbling hearts all over it. In fact, the liquid was even a pale pink. _What the devil?_ He thought to himself.

Then, as he moved through the package, he found an attached letter from Fred and George.

_Feeling a little bit lovesick, Potter?_

_Fred and I heard about your little mix up. Time to get yourself one of those Muggle calendars, don't you think? Anyhow, here is the last minute Valentine's Day survival package from yours truly. _

_So, in this emergency rescue kit, Fred and myself have included the following:_

_Loverbeer. It's Butterbeer, but in a super sickly romantic form that makes us gag and girls blush. It tastes relatively the same though. Fred thought to include a slogan on the back saying, "Make some magic of your own tonight," but I thought we had best refrain, in case this package got intercepted._

_Cinnamon hearts. Now _these _are guaranteed to make things a little hotter. Since this is a little awkward given who your lass is, we'll leave it at that. _

_As much as it kills us to be supporting other shops, we figured this was a necessary addition. There's a little emerald necklace enclosed in a blue jewelry box. Don't fret, Angelina picked it out, not us. _

_As much as it pains me to send this without some sort of devilish Weasley shop fun, we promise that everything we've sent is safe and won't get you into any real trouble, other than a good time. Perhaps you could take her to the Shrieking Shack … No, not for _that_ reason! She's our sister for goodness sake. Blimey, Potter!_

_Don't worry about the whole "you owe us sometime," because you gave us the money to start up the shop, so you technically paid for all of this yourself. Frankly, if Ron were in this position, I can't say we'd do more than laugh at the blithering idiot who forgot Valentine's Day–no offense–so count yourself lucky! Anyhow, George is telling me that there's a group of old housewitches that are trying to buy up our whole supply of love potions. So, without further ado, we wish you the best of luck on the oh-so-disgusting lovers day._

_Cheers, Harry!_

_George_

_Necklace?_ Harry wondered. _What necklace? _He fumbled about the package to find a dark blue jewelry box. Inside, he saw an emerald pendant on a silver chain. It was dainty and small. The deep green stone was surrounded by a halo of small crystals that glimmered as if enchanted to shine like the moon. Harry understood what George was saying–no matter how much she denied wanting a piece of jewelry, there was no way she could deny this.

Although everything Fred and George had sent him _was _from a joke shop, he had to use it. There was no other option. Besides, they promised that they were safe products and that they'd have fun with them, so he took their word for it.

Perfect. Everything was perfect.

Harry was now in a desperate panic to find Ginny. He opened up his beloved Marauder's Map and saw that Ginny was at the Quidditch pitch. Quickly, he took off at the speed of light down the stairs of the dormitory. With his arms wrapped around the contents of the gift, Harry nearly toppled into Ron and Hermione in the common room.

"I'm going to assume Fred and George are behind _this?_" said Ron, sounding slightly proud of himself. Hermione looked at Harry with a slight glare in her brown eyes, disapproving of the fact that he hadn't done this himself.

"I definitely owe you. Gotta go. Bye!" Harry nodded before he ran through the portrait hole.

Down at the pitch, Ginny was aggressively throwing quaffles through the goalposts. Harry found his Firebolt and started upwards, barely evading one of her bullet-like throws.

"Goodness, Gin. Why don't the Harpies just draft you now?"

She shrugged, "Gotta get a bit better first. That's why you called for a practice tonight, right?"

"Look," Harry said, taking the quaffle resting in her hands. "I'm sorry about everything that happened earlier. I promise I can make it up to you." He pulled a strand of her ginger hair off her face.

Her brown eyes looked at him quizzically. "Alright," she said. "I'm sorry I was acting all uptight."

Harry chuckled, "Uptight? No. Slightly frazzled, maybe. Don't worry though, you get that beautiful blush whenever you're frazzled."

Ginny gave into a little smile and the two headed down towards the ground.

The sky was beginning to fade into a deeper blue as the night rolled in. The ground was still crisp with February's wintery frost. They finally came to the Whomping Willow. Harry cast the jinx that rendered it immobile. Harry had taken George's 'advice' and used the Shrieking Shack. Inside, it wasn't nearly as sinister as the legends had claimed that it was. But ever since Harry's third year adventure, he knew this place was a safe hideout. He hadn't really made an effort to jazz up the place, but at least they were alone.

"I got you something," Harry said.

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

He withdrew the blue, velvet box from his pocket and presented it in front of her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the necklace.

"Dear god, Harry. Where'd you get that?"

He chuckled, "Your brothers, actually."

"Which ones? I have six brothers, Harry. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

Harry smiled, "Fred and George," he specified.

She laughed and shook her head. "Should've known."

"Ron helped a bit too," he added.

She eyed him with doubtfulness. "But my brothers are the least sentimental, romantic people in the world!"

"Next to me," said Harry.

Ginny just gave him the joking eye roll that she did so well. "You wanna see what I got you? I saw it and told Mum about it, so she decided to send it over."

He chuckled, "Alright, let's see!"

She pulled out a small red box and handed it to Harry. He took off the lid and underneath was a flaxen snitch; it's wings lustrous and dormant. He recognized it from a catalog for Quality Quidditch Supplies. It's limited edition, with revamped wings for ultimate flutter speed; it's the ultimate Seeking challenge.

"I thought it was suitable, you know, cause you're a Seeker, of course; but I thought it might make you think of me, because, you know, how you chased me all those years." She winked and flicked a bit of carmine hair off her shoulder.

Harry chuckled even louder. "I chased _you?_"

"Oh yeah. In fact, you could've played Chaser instead of Seeker," said Ginny. "You stayed over at my house all the time and wanted to work in all those late Quidditch practices with me and stuff."

He laughed even harder, "Guess you have a point. I remember when you were in your first year and you couldn't even say two words to me."

"And aren't you glad I grew out of that phase?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes peering up at him teasingly.

Harry nodded and gave her a light kiss. "Oh, I almost forgot that I brought butterbeer."

Ginny faked her disbelief, "How on _Earth _could you ever forget something like that?!" He handed her the chilled drink and she read the label. "_Lover_beer?"

Harry shrugged, "Guess it's some Valentine's Day thing."

"Hmm," said Ginny. "Well then I suppose we have to try it!" They popped the bottle caps, clinked their glasses to each other's and took a sip. Ginny stopped to taste the drink and immediately, she broke out into a vast smile.

Harry looked at her a little funny. "You alright there?"

She started nodding her head really fast, her eyes wide as could be. "This is really good!" she exclaimed, taking another rather large swig. "Haaaaaarry," she said, clamping her teeth down onto her cherry red bottom lip, her eyes wide and playful.

"Er, yes?" he said, confused.

"What's that? In your pocket?"

"What?" Harry said utterly confused. "Oh," he said. "They're … um … cinnamon hearts I think."

Ginny's eyes grew wide in an instant. "Ooh! Can I have one? Pleeeeeeease!" she begged like a toddler.

Harry chuckled, taken aback. "Okay, okay." He opened the bag and gave a handful of miniature crimson heart candies to Ginny. She ate one without hesitation and instantaneously, her lips puckered and her eyes shot open. She shook her head as though she were trying to clear it. "You alright, Gin?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but don't you find it really hot in here?" She fanned herself with her hands.

"Um, not overly," Harry replied.

"Oh," said Ginny. "Well, _I _am." She raised her eyebrow in a sultry way, while Harry simply eyed her in a peculiar way. "Here, have one of those things!" she said, motioning to the cinnamon hearts.

"But …" Harry protested.

"Just try!" Ginny said.

"But I _really _don't like cinnamon."

"_Haaaaaarry!_"

"Okay, okay." He took a cinnamon heart and ate it, spitting it out almost right away. His face was flushed and he was definitely growing warmer. In fact, he wanted to go stand outside in the February air.

Ginny, all of a sudden, began giggling uncontrollably. "_See!_ I told you it makes you hot! Except, you know, I was already pretty hot to begin with, right?"

Harry nodded still fighting the urge to go roll in a snow bank, "True enough."

Silence filled the steamy air, and Ginny just took another swig of "Loverbeer" and stared at Harry. She didn't say anything else, but simply lunged at him, knocking him straight onto the lone dusty bed in the Shrieking Shack.

"Whoa," Harry said in surprise, "hello there."

She giggled, and then began kissing him. Harry had never really seen Ginny behave in this manner, therefore he had no idea how to react, so he just went with it. That was, until she broke away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think you forgot something."

"Like what?"

"Well obviously, that Felix Felicis you won. Because, you know, you need that to get lucky."

Harry began to laugh uncontrollably. "Whoa there, Gin."

"I'm kidding, you git!" She sat up and took another drink from the bottle. After a few moments of Ginny staring at her boyfriend with curiosity, she spoke. "Harry, you love me, right?"

The question indubitably caught him off guard. "Well, of course I do."

"How much?" she asked, raising an eyebrow."

"Well, a lot, I suppose."

"That doesn't tell me how much!" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, fighting to keep up with the ever changing moods of his frisky girlfriend, "More than my broomstick, or my first snitch, or …"

"Keep going," she said.

"More than anything. I know it sounds a bit corny, but it's true."

Ginny's lips formed half of a smile as she winked and said, "Right back atcha." Afterwards, she drained the last bits of butterbeer–or _Lover_beer, rather–from the bottle.

Those last few droplets sent her over the edge. She flung herself at Harry and began planting numerous kisses all over his face.

"Uh, Ginny," he said trying to find some room to breathe.

"Mmhmm," she said, refusing to stop.

"What are you … Ginny, you're being sort of … I can't exactly breathe … Okay, getting a little claustrophobic over here … _Ginny!_"

That made her stop. Her eyes peered into his; her chocolate irises coated with some sort of glossiness, from tears or the Loverbeer, Harry wasn't sure.

"What?" Ginny asked quietly, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well," Harry began, "you're just not really acting like … yourself."

Ginny's look evolved from hurt to confused. "Like _myself_? Harry, I can assure you I'm acting like my normal self, thank you very much."

"Sorry, Gin, you were just acting really …"

"Really _what_, Harry?!"

"Well, a little aggressive, I suppose."

Now her face had an expression that was fueled with anger. "_Aggressive?! _The last time I checked, when a girl tried to kiss her boyfriend, it wasn't necessarily considered 'aggressive!' I thought you wanted me Harry! Why would you lie like that? Bring me out here and charm me with all this … this … stuff," she shook her head angrily as she picked up the bottle of Loverbeer and slammed it down on the bed, "Only to push me away!"

Harry didn't have anything else to say. He was lost for words. He'd never seen Ginny behave like this. Ever.

"Well sorry for trying to kiss you!" Ginny retorted to his silence. "You know, most boys would be happy to have me around and not push me away! I'm sorry I can't be your tall, fun and pretty, Cho Chang."

"Ginny, just calm down," Harry said, trying to reason. He grabbed ahold of her wrist, causing her to stop moving and look at him. "Hey, it's alright," he said faintly. Then, he craned his neck downwards and gave her a faint kiss. Then they broke away. She smiled up at him, her eyes more relaxed and slowly her eyes closed and she fell

* * *

Harry sat in the common room, hovered over one of the Loverbeer bottles, reading the back of it in order to understand just what Ginny had drank the previous night.

_Loverbeer is a refreshment that when consumed, magnifies the portion of the brain controlling the romantic feelings of a witch. This drink contains no alcohol, and the effects have a two-hour to one bottle ratio. The drink, however, is not effective on wizards._

_**WARNING: **__Do not consume more than two bottles in less than 24 hours. Do not consume alcohol while having consumed Loverbeer. Do not agitate a witch under the effects of Loverbeer, for anger can escalate quickly. If a witch is agitated, her she can become exhausted very quickly and may become unconscious._

_Well, that explains that_, Harry thought. Ginny was in Hermione's room, sleeping off the effects of the concoction. Last night, when she'd passed out, he almost wanted to kill Fred and George, and possibly Ron too, for his idea. Harry brought her back to the castle, where he found Hermione in the common room. After reading the back of the bottle, Hermione said that she didn't necessarily have to go to the hospital wing, and that she just needed to sleep. She said she'd watch her through the night.

It was two in the afternoon on the Saturday morning and Ginny had slept for about fifteen hours. Right then, Hermione headed down the stairs and told Harry to come up and see her. He sat down on the foot of the bed, and almost instantaneously, Ginny's eyes flung open. She sat up a little fast and it was evident that she was dizzy.

"Easy there, tiger," Harry said, putting his palm behind her head.

"Worst hangover _ever_," Ginny muttered as she put her head back on the pillow.

Harry chuckled, "You weren't even drunk."

"I sure as hell felt like I was," she said.

"Well maybe you were just … under the influence of love." He winked his green eye at her.

She pretended to gag, "Dear god, Harry Potter, you can be so corny."

"So, I take it you're not still incredibly angry with me?" he asked.

"Of course not. Like you said, I was 'under the influence of love.'"

Harry laughed, "Well I'm sorry that Valentine's Day didn't exactly turn out the way it was supposed to."

Ginny shrugged, "I got a cute necklace out of it." She was still wearing the emerald pendant. "And I guess one good kiss too."

"Oh yeah, must've been pretty good to make you pass out like you did."

Ginny scrunched up her face, "I've had better."

"Oh really now?" said Harry.

"Oh relax, they're all yours, you prat."

He chuckled, "They better be."

Then, he went to give Ginny another kiss when Ron walked in the door.

"_My eyes! My eyes!_" he shrieked.

"Isn't it his fault that I'm like this right now?" Ginny asked Harry.

"Yeah, it probably wasn't one of my better ideas," said Ron, scratching his head. "I think I failed Snape's test too."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry. "The night turned out … pretty good after all."

"I don't want to know what you mean by that," said Ron. "So I'm just gonna leave."

Once they were alone, Ginny smiled up at Harry and laughed. "So I guess we had ourselves a two-day Valentine's Day then."

"Yeah, hold on one second though," said Harry.

"What for?"

"I gotta write your brothers a thank you letter."

* * *

**PS, the line about Cho is not mine. I borrowed it from the fabulous Starkid's AVPM, in order to add a drop of humour to my readers who are familiar with the fabulous production.**

**Anyhow, that's all for now! Until next time! 3**


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